


Walking Forward (Never Losing Sight of You)

by Jenkins (Shikiyoku)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Erectile Dysfunction, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prostitution, Slow Build, Smut, Violence, good guy levi, more tags as we go, sorry though i just wanted eren to be a little whore whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shikiyoku/pseuds/Jenkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his sister (his only family) living away, being thrown out of his rundown apartment and having nowhere to go or how to support himself, Eren has no choice other than getting himself involved with a world he has never even dreamed of. Though, even after three years selling his body, things are going from bad to worst.</p><p>(or, alternatively, in which Eren lives in the streets and meets an infuriating good guy along his way)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which a meeting happens

**Author's Note:**

> Things got out of hand. Again.
> 
> I'm sick of writing plotless porn, so I've decided to actually try and write something nice, slow build and with a decent plot. I'm not sure if it will be a long way, but I sincerely hope you can trail this path by my side till the end! 
> 
> I'm making no money out of this.

Eren taps nervously against the bar counter. He’s fucked. Completely and thoroughly fucked. He has no money, no place to crash, and he’s pretty sure it will start to snow soon. Like, _tonight_ soon. And, he groans inwardly, he doesn’t feel even one bit inclined to sell his ass this night _at_ _all_.

But he has no option, has he? He takes a deep breath and proceeds to scan the packed bar after someone that seems gay enough to buy him for the night, fits his beauty standards and doesn’t look terribly poor _._ His eyes lay upon an olive skinned boy sitting at the back – he definitely looks gay enough, and he has a nice face for all Eren cares. But there’s so much people around him – _why is there so much people around him anyway –_ and his confidence falters a bit because he’s definitely not going to approach him and say, _hello would you pay $150 for one hour with my ass or what_ with a bunch of weird people around.

Approaching potential clients is the worst.

He resumes his scanning, searching for a person that now fits gay enough, pretty enough, with lots of money _and_ alone enough. But there’s no such a thing as someone alone enough in a fucking bar, at way past midnight in the damn weekend.

Eren’s fucked. He definitely doesn’t want to sleep in the streets; it’s all disgusting and dirty, with piss and vomit and cockroaches everywhere, and he absolutely doesn’t feel like waking up with tons of snow on top of him. He’s hungry too – and thirsty. He hasn’t had anything to eat at all since yesterday, when he spent his last fucking pennies to buy cheap bread.

He concentrates on his breath again. He hates selling his body, alright. He has no other choice though, none at all, and he’s kind of used to it already. He decides he _will_ fucking find someone willing to pay shit tons of money for his ass tonight, because not doing it is _not_ an option right now. He needs a fucking roof and food, or he’s seriously going to die.

Nodding to himself, Eren then turns his head to try and find someone, but, instead, catches himself watching a couple ( _Gay for sure,_ his mind provides helpfully) talking in rushed tones. One of them is saying something with a bored, cold expression in his face – _whoa_. He has never seen eyes so weird in all his fucking life, and he believes he has survived for a while now; the bright lights are reflected on them, making them shine in tones of blue and deep, stormy grey. The other guy has his back towards him, but Eren can say he’s small, with blinding blonde hair.

He kind of snaps out of it with a mini heart attack when the blonde guy gets up hastily, smacking his hands against the table. “God, you are infuriating, Levi. I’ve told you, _I don’t want your fucking money_ , stop shoving it at my face when I’ve told you, _I’ve told you_ I don’t want it. God. You are really unbearable sometimes! You know what? I give up. I’m done. Bye,” he snaps.

Eren watches with a bewildered expression. The boy is surely small, seems _weak_ like a scared rabbit, and he has delicate features too – but his snapping voice is strong and angry and kind of scary. He follows him with his eyes until he’s out of sight, stomping his way to the exit. The other guy has gotten up too, calling out something in a (maybe) slightly apologetic, but cold, low voice. He moves as if he’s tempted to follow, but instead fists his hands and falls down on his chair, muttering a string of foul words.

Nobody seems to notice their little quarrel, though. The bar in noisy enough, and by now everyone’s drunk as fuck ( _or_ , Eren corrects himself, _everyone with enough money to buy booze)._ He feels almost sorry for the guy, but, god, this is a perfect chance. He gets up and walks decidedly towards the man’s table. He’s now staring up at apparently nowhere, so he doesn’t see when Eren pulls the chair the blonde boy was sitting in and falls on it unceremoniously.

“That was pretty bad, huh?” He asks, voice smooth and way more confident than what he actually feels.

The guy looks at him, then, furrows his brows and moves to get up. “Yeah, whatever. You want to have the table, right? I don’t care, anyway. Bye,” he says.

Eren reaches out for him, holding his arm with more force than he originally intents to, but it effectively stops the guy, so Eren doesn’t quite mind. “No, stay. Your date left you already, so why don’t we do something fun?”

His dark eyes stare sharply at him, and he looks like he’s considering something, but then he tugs his arm back roughly, and, although he falls back on the chair, he looks halfway amused and pissed off. “Sorry though, I’m not looking for cheap whores right now.”

 _Ouch_. That stings a bit deep inside Eren. He feels shittish enough without needing other people making him feel even worse. He feels like punching this stupid guy to try and lift his spirits, but decides against it – he means a potential roof and food, and he tries his best to maintain a straight face as he breathes deep.

“Not cheap though,” Eren offers, quietly.

 _Fuck_. He’s no good at this. Even after so many times, he’s terrible at it. He knows it’s a lost cause, but he holds the guy’s angry stare for what feels like an eternity. His brows are furred again and he has a weird look on his face, and Eren starts to feel terribly self-conscious and stupid and small and so useless he feels like curling in a ball and crying, because, _really_ , this is worse than sleeping in the snow.

In attempt to hide his embarrassment, he turns it all in anger. He knows he can’t let his temper get the better of him, but he has never been that good at controlling himself. “Look, you know what?” he snaps, getting up. “Fuck you. It’s cold and I’m hungry and it’s going to snow and I fucking need money, okay? So if you are not doing it, then bye.”

He turns around with what decency he has left, willing his eyes to burn and the anger possess him. This guy _sure_ is infuriating, Eren thinks, but then yelps when he feels himself being pulled back roughly by his arm. He stumbles over the chair and glares at the man.

“What the fuck,” he snaps, tugging his arm back.

“Sit down,” the man says casually, getting back to his seat and looking at Eren as if daring him to turn his back to him again.

Eren sure wants to, but he has endured worse humiliation in his life than a short man stomping at his pride, and therefore he needs money, so he gets back to the chair and sits down slowly. They stay silent for a long while – Eren trying not to look as desperate as he feels, and the man scrutinizing his face so intently Eren's sure he's seeing his soul – and then the man sighs tiredly.

“How much is a cheap, but decent hotel around here?”

_Thank god._

“I think… there’s a hotel-like thing some streets below…” Eren trails off, not sure. “Maybe around $20?”

The guy stares at him sharply with judging grey eyes. Eren thinks they are kind of like the sky outside before he entered this bar – cloudy and angry and more than just a little scary.

“Is that _decent?_ ” he asks, then, low voice threatening.

Eren shrugs. It has a bed and a bathroom and – _yeah_ , that’s pretty decent when you’ve got no roof at all. “It has what’s needed,” he answers carefully.

Then he watches as the man pulls out a black leather wallet from his pocket and opens a zipper. He moves his fingers swiftly and pulls out a $50 bill that has absolutely no folding marks, and then moves to give it to Eren.

Eren hopes he doesn’t look as stupid as he feels while he watches from the man to the bill, not sure what to do. He has never been paid in advance before. _And_ this is not his price at all. Will he pay half now and half later? But this is not even _half_ either.

“Take the fucking money,” the guy growls, and waits impatiently for Eren to get a hold of the bill, maybe winces a little when he wrinkles it. “Now go,” he says. “Rent a room, eat something, and go away.”

He’s sure tempted to, but _no._ Eren slaps the bill on the table. “I don’t need your pity,” he says through gritted teeth, getting up again. “You may be rich, but I’m not taking your money without giving you anything in return. Thanks, asshole,” he says, and turns to leave, feeling dejected and absolutely disgusted (with the man or with himself, he’s not sure).

“You do what you want, brat,” the man says, and Eren stops. “There’s nothing glorious in dying in the fucking freezing cold, though. Take the damn money and go somewhere, or leave it here and risk not finding someone willing to fuck you. I don’t really care,” he finishes, and then gets up.

Eren watches baffled as the guy heads for the cashier without any other word, elegantly moving through the bar.

 _What the actual fuck,_ Eren groans, but stuffs his little pride up his ass where he’s sure it belongs anyways and takes the money.

Eren is fucked.


	2. In which a discussion happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN.
> 
> I'm sorry for this chapter dkfgmf it's really slow and has no ereri real meeting or anything. I just wanted to write levi and armin interacting with each other. 
> 
> also, whoops, I think I forgot to warn you erwin's dead. jfngfdjkg sorry, erwin, I didn't feel like writing your handsome ass, so I killed you off by default. don't worry though, levi is taking good care of your sweet little genius.
> 
> ah, and the cuts. sorry about the cuts. I originally wrote levi/armin only for this chapter, but then I felt sorry for leaving eren out, so I though WHY NOT, and things happened; but since I'm no big fan of cuts, I won't be using them this often. or so I hope kfgkjf
> 
> enjoy

Eren cracks his eyes open slowly. His face is uncomfortably pressed down against the hard mattress in the cheap room he rented. He feels in equal parts happy he managed to avoid sleeping in the streets for one more night, and desperate because he doesn’t know what the fuck he will be doing tonight.

He tries to calm himself, recalling the last two winters he has managed to survive through just fine – sure he had gotten sick as fuck, and almost frozen to death, but ended up alive for all he cares. He sighs and rolls to his side, blinking his eyes slowly and looking outside through the dirty window.

The sky is full of clouds, and even though it's pretty and nice to look at, this is an angry and unforgiving sky, Eren knows, and it makes a shiver run down his spine. His worst enemy is the weather, it seems – this stormy sky is decidedly more dangerous than the kinky old men wanting to slap his ass.

* * *

 

Levi sighs exasperated at his phone. He has called Armin four times since morning already and was blatantly ignored by the kid. He glares at the offended mobile one more time before unlocking it again. He taps impatiently on the messages icon, and then on Armin’s name. ‘ _I swear to god, Armin. If you don’t pick up, I will go over there and end you. You know I will find you. Pick up the damn phone. I will call again in one minute. Pick. Up,_ ’ He taps, furiously.

It feels as if he’s twelve years old, having arguments through text messages. He checks the time, _13:41_ , and waits patiently till it turns _13:42_. He touches the call button and feels immensely pleased when Armin picks up in the first ring.

“Wise choice for a wise brat,” Levi tells him.

A minute passes with them in silence after that; Levi can only make out the heavy breathing from Armin’s side, and it puts him at ease – he was almost worried about the kid after three days of being shut down from his life. He sighs.

“Where are you, Armin?”

“Library,” He answers obediently, and Levi can almost see his gaze meeting the ground in anxiety.

“Figures,” Levi replies, getting up. “Get your things and wait outside, I’m picking you up.” Levi heads for his car keys and is halfway through his living room when Armin calls his name hesitantly. He shakes his head, even though the brat can’t see, and says, “You’re fine, Armin. It’s okay.”

* * *

 

After paying his room, Eren tries to suppress the cold feeling rising from the pit of his stomach. For some reason, finding clients in cold weather is harder than when it’s warm outside; he has no money again, and since he decided not freezing to death was more important than eating, it’s been two days since his last decent meal.

He tries to set up a plan for the day, but he’s no good at plans at all; he stands there in the hotel’s entrance until he’s being angrily glared at by the guy in the cashier – he knows this look, the one that says  _go away, you are embarrassing_ , and it feels only half as painful as it felt the first time he received it. He shrugs and set off to the street, wraping his cardigan around himself securely and venturing in the cold wind. Eren decides he will head downtown – there are a lot of cafés there and, consequently, a lot of people, especially when it’s cold – maybe he can find someone, then.

The streets are empty save for some children playing with the dirtying snow. It's almost hilarious, Eren thinks; he really, really likes winter. He likes the cold weather; it makes him think about the time back in the past when he lived in a cozy and comfortable house with his mom and Mikasa. He walks for about forty minutes before his stomach starts to grumble madly and protest against him. Eren tries to ignore it the better he can while he walks along the snow covered sidewalk. Hunger leaves him lightheaded, though, and he feels kind of dizzy and he drags his feet forward.

Seven minutes passes before he’s hit straight in the face by a snowball. He yelps, blinking back to total conscious in time to see a bunch of kids running towards him, apologizing frantically. One of them begs Eren to not tell their moms, and Eren gives them the best smile he can muster, waving his hand dismissively.

* * *

 

There’s one hell of a heavy traffic in the streets, though, and Levi feels like abandoning his car and walking 12kM to the library near Armin’s house in despite. He doesn’t, but only because it’s cold as fuck outside and snow is already pilling up.

He texts Armin again, telling him to wait inside because he thinks it will take a while to him to get there. Armin answers with a small _ok_ , and then, after one minute, _sorry._

Levi sighs and taps impatiently at the steering wheel, watching as the snow falls and accumulates messily on the sidewalks. A bunch of kids are yelling and trying to make a snowman, even though they are painfully bad at it, to the point Levi feels embarrassing while watching. One of them seems to understand that, at least, and settles for molding a snowball in silence and throw and the others, and then hell breaks loose.

He watches as one girl makes another ball and throws, but it goes incredibly wrong and hits a passerby in the face. He almost snickers at the face the children make before apologizing all at once. The passerby, a tall guy with ridiculously thin clothes for the weather and messy brown hair, offers them a tired smile and waves his hand dismissively, continuing his way after a moment.

Weirdly enough, this guy seems annoyingly familiar, but Levi can’t really put his finger in what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, so he shrugs and keeps driving at turtle’s pace towards Armin.

* * *

 

After apologizing again, the children stop throwing snowballs, and Eren continues to walk down the sidewalk. It’s not even an hour since he left the hotel, but he feels as if he has been walking for days now. He feels tired and weak in general, so when he spots a bench in a small park ahead, he quickens his pace and is grateful when at least he reaches it.

Eren falls unceremoniously on it, feeling snow against his jeans and wetting his cardigan. He knows it’s not a good idea to get soaking wet in cold water, but he doesn’t have any strength left; moving is not an option right now, so he gets comfortable in the bench and tries to gather what power he has left inside himself – he needs to get going, otherwise he won’t make it downtown anytime soon.

But, instead, Eren sits there, knees drawled up to his chest and nursing his growling belly for what seems like hours.

* * *

 

Levi texts Armin again when he’s close to the library, and he stops by the entrance when he sees the boy standing there with one too many books in his hands and a heavy, stuffed backpack. He fights the urge of rolling his eyes at him, and instead unlocks the door.

Armin opens the back door and puts down his backpack on the floor – for which Levi is immensely grateful because this boy throws that bag everywhere, even in public bathroom’s floors – and then moves to sit besides Levi in the passenger seat.

He puts the other pile of books in his laps, silently, and takes a deep breath. “Are you angry?” He asks, then, rushed.

“No,” Levi says, curtly.

 He nods, but doesn’t turn to look at Levi. “Good. I’m sorry, but you were being an ass,” he offers as way of explanation.

“Now I’m angry,” Levi deadpans, and is secretly relieved when at least Armin turns in his seat to look at him, an apologetic but amused expression on his face. “I don’t get you,” Levi says, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he sinks down in his seat. He feels exasperated and angry and just plainly annoyed with this whole stupid situation.

“I get it you are rich, Levi, but I’ve told you I won’t leech you. I don’t need it.” Armin explains for what feels like the tenth time. Then he adds, in a small, quiet voice, “It’s not your responsibility.”

“Damn right it’s not, but I want to, though. Kid, I’m no Erwin Smith but even _I_ know when a person has rare intelligence when I meet one, and it’s a fucking waste you giving up college because of money. When you obviously have enough people willing to help you with that.”

“I’m not giving up college,” Armin says, then, looking kind of surprised the thought even crossed Levi’s mind. “I’m postponing it. For a while. Until I save up enough.”

Levi snorts, feeling like shoving his hands up in the air to try and convey how frustrating this feels. It’s not his responsibility, _alright_ , but Armin was heading to college without any complaints before Erwin’s plane crashed. And _that_ was sort of his fault – he should have been in that plane, not Erwin. So, in a way or another, he did fuck up this kid’s life.

He doesn’t tell him this, though – not again, because Levi already made it clear for at least fifty times that he would do for him everything Erwin would. And maybe something more. Just maybe.

Without giving Armin any decent comeback, he starts the car again and drives without any real destination for a good two minutes, and then decides he’s heading home, and is grateful the traffic coming back up is not as heavy as the one going down. As they stop in a red light, Levi looks out of the window, at a guy sitting in a bench pilled with snow – this guy, Levi makes a face; the same passerby who was hit with the snowball. He stares at him, sitting there in the fucking freezing cold with no more than a damned cardigan; his hair is damp and there’s fucking snow on top of his head. Levi glares at him angrily, and is mildly surprised when the guy raises his head just a little and they lock gazes.

From where the fuck he knows this annoying guy? He runs a hand through his hair, racking his brain after some sort of answer, and trying to make out a decent enough reason as to why this little fucker is so stupidly sitting there.

“At times like these, you should say you are sorry too,” Armin’s muffled voice makes him blink and look back at him. He’s holding a heavy book open, half of his face covered with it, so the only thing he can see is his eyes.

“Should I really?” Levi shots back. “I’m not fucking sorry, though. If anything, I’m really pissed off you are throwing all this shit that goes on inside your brain in the trash bin. I’d say you are being really stupid – and don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. It’s just plain annoying you were willing Erwin to pay college for you, but won’t let me do anything,” he snaps.

“Erwin was different,” Armin says.

Levi just shakes his head, deciding they are not having this chat yet again. He has already called Hanji, anyway, and for a fact she’s coming back to meet Armin in two weeks. He only has to maintain the boy at ease for a while, and he’s sure he will give in instantly after meeting her – Erwin told Levi once about it, about Armin looking up to her and dreaming about working with her someday; Levi is determined not to let this kid slid off. He will fucking send Armin Arlert to college, even if the kid hates him – he doesn’t care.

Erwin would be pissed off if he didn’t, anyway, and although he thinks Erwin’s already pretty pissed off at him for sending him in his place to a definitive flight to hell, this is something Levi doesn’t want to fuck up. He doesn’t want to fuck up Armin Arlert, and it’s definitely _not_ because this little shit sitting beside him covered by a shit ton of books looks just like a younger version of Erwin; it’s also certainly not because he says a lot of witty things, or has that pleasant false smile plastered on his face at times when he doesn’t want to be impolite; most certainly it has nothing to do with the fact Levi has to blink hard sometimes to get himself around the fact he’s not talking with Erwin Smith, but with Armin Arlert.

 _‘Damn it, Erwin,’_ Levi thinks, angrily. _‘Trust you to be so fucking narcissist as to find someone so damn like you to fool around with. ’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT SURE IF ERWIN WAS BANGING ARMIN YET, BUT HE MIGHT BE, I GUESS. (who wouldn't want to bang armin, i mean? just /look/ at him.)
> 
> I'm sorry for this shittish chapter, though. I will write something decent next time sobs
> 
> yeah


	3. In which a lot of work is done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> This took more time than I thought it would, but it's still very short. *sighs*
> 
> Sorry, I just don't feel like rushing things and making weird scenarios just so there will be a lot of ereri interaction, so actually this chapter still completely lacks it. Also I had to do some explanations so yeah
> 
> BUT the news are, Eren sucks cock. bye

It’s with too much disgust but at least a little bit of relief that Eren knees on the floor. He has made some friends in this business, worked with them in some brothels, but he has never been able to understand how they always seemed to be so calm about selling their bodies.

Eren is always scared – when he has to lock himself inside a room with someone he doesn’t know. He’s disgusted when he has so suck old men’s dicks because nobody met his standards and he’s plain desperate; when he has to pretend they are good fuck. He hates that; he hates to pretend he likes it, and he hates when he has to moan. He can’t even think about one single time he got off from being fucked by this kind of people.

Sure, he knows he’s the one selling himself out – he’s okay with the fact there are people willing to buy him, but he can’t help but despise fathers that leave their kids and their wives home and go around looking for young boys’ asses. He can’t quite understand why the fuck they are so violent, either, but the physical pain is stupid when in comparison to his inner turmoil – so he doesn’t mind it.

He takes a deep breath when the guy in front of him slaps his dick against his cheek. He tries not to look as disgusted and as annoyed as he feels – he’d rather him to finish soon, so he holds the guy’s cock in place before opening his mouth wide and starting suck him.

Eren moves his head slowly, trying to adjust around the intrusion; he licks at the underside, trailing fat veins in a way he has learned get most of the guys off. Though this guy in particular is extremely impatient; he grips at Eren’s hair with enough force to rip some of his strands, shoving his head forward. Eren feels like throwing up when his nose bumps against greasy dark curls, but he refrains. Instead, he holds onto the guy’s waist in an attempt to ease him from his hair, but it serves no purpose other than making him thrust deeper.

His cock hits the back of Eren’s throat repeatedly, until the guy finds a better angle and his cock slid all the way down. Eren’s happy this guy is at least wearing a condom right now, and tries to swallow around his dick; he doesn’t want to suffocate, but the attempt only gets Eren to choke around his cock and cough up. That’s definitely unsexy, Eren thinks, but this seems to be the kind of guy who likes it when their whores are covered in spit and cum, because he allows Eren to let go of his cock in order to rub it against his face, effectively getting him glistening with saliva.

He gets barely a moment to refill his lungs before he’s being turned around roughly. At least the guy throws him in the hard mattress instead of the floor, and Eren spreads his legs obediently, before handing the guy the bottle that was sitting on the bed. He hears the sound of the lube being open, and next thing he’s being filled up to the brim with some weirdo’s dick and absolutely no preparation.

Eren grunts in discomfort, counting the days until people shoving their dicks inside him so harshly will make him lose to the point he won’t be able not even to hold his own shit inside. Then he might shit on other people’s dick. The thought makes him laugh breathlessly, and earns him a hard slap on his ass.

“You like that, whore?” The guy asks.

“You have no idea.”

* * *

 

Levi sits down behind his desk and realizes work has turned into something boring.

The mere thought of it is scary, but he misses Hanji and her uncontrollably fawning over him, being so unpleasantly pleasant all the time. Back in the days when they first met, she has forced her way into his life; made him get used to her to the point they fell into comfortable routine – and then she was offered five labs and founds in a college across the country, complete with home and permission to run every bizarre experiment and every research she has ever wanted to.

Not having her around was weird for a year, but Levi thinks he has managed well, and then got used to it just fine. He was too busy anyway, what with Erwin making him chief-surgeon of a new unit and giving him the chance to pick his coworkers himself – Levi has been delighted back then; he hated almost every one of the doctors in that hospital, so he used this chance to surround himself with the people he liked the most.

He has handpicked every one of the doctors in his unit, going as far as talking Erwin into letting him snatch some people from other units ( _fuck_ if he was going to let Doctor Erd slip away from him just because he was already placed under some lazy ass command).

Levi likes his unit as much as he used to back then. They are still the most competent doctors in the hospital, and they are reliable. He enjoys their company too – they fit together too well. But it’s not the same.

Not the same, because working is boring without Erwin.

Everything and everyday is boring.

He liked Erwin too much to just get used to things without him around. He misses Erwin in the mornings, when he’s in a good mood and Erwin’s not there to sit with him for coffee and talk about everything and nothing, sometimes discussing one or another point of a specific surgery; He misses Erwin when he wakes up in a foul mood and there’s no one brave enough to tease him and push his buttons until he snaps; He misses Erwin, the afternoons rolling by with no one to remember him of eating; He misses Erwin, the nights at the hospital too long for comfort when he’s alone (but he’s really not, though; there are hundreds of other doctors in the hospital, but none of them are Erwin, and he’s _alone_ ).

It’s weird how much you can fuck up without wanting to, without even realizing you are fucking up. Everything he did was telling Erwin he didn’t feel like attending a congress in another state – not with his leg fucked up after he fell spectacularly and shred his bone to pieces. Erwin had laughed, accusing him of being too dramatic, and said he’d go in his place since the air tickets and the hotel room had already been booked under the hospital account. They agreed on that quickly – too quickly.

Next thing Levi knows, the plane Erwin was inside – the plane _he_ was supposed to be inside – crashed. It wasn’t that much of a disaster – _only_ 26 people died. Erwin died.

It’s also weird how Erwin’s presence still lingers in the hospital. Sometimes he turns over, and he swears he can see his large back disappearing after having turned a corner, or hear his voice, sounding the way it did whenever he was pretending to be a pleasant person and fooling everyone (he never fooled Levi, though – Levi has always known Erwin to be a jerk) and succeeding almost hilariously. Sometimes when he sits down between a patient and another, Levi smells his cologne and the scent that is unique Erwin. It irks him, and he thinks he maybe has gone crazy, but decides that going to see a psychiatrist is not an option.

What he hates most about this deal, though, is Armin.

Armin, looking at him with fucking bright sky-blue eyes and bright blonde hair; approaching him in the funeral asking if he’s Levi – _Doctor_ Levi, the one Erwin always talked about.

It’s all quickly – too quickly. Levi and Erwin were close enough for him to know about this boy’s existence. Levi knew about Armin Arlert and about Erwin’s infatuation for him back then. Though Erwin never did tell him to which extent his care about the boy went, he was sure it was a long way.

In any case, Levi found the boy getting attached to him not long after his death. Six months into life without Erwin, Levi had run onto Armin at least one million times – going to cultural fairs, opened to the public congresses, and, mostly, visiting Erwin’s grave.

He sighs and leans back, closing his eyes. Erwin was a fucked up person. But he never got to tell him that – never got to tell him much, actually; Erwin was always the one doing most of the talking. He was fucked up for having gotten a boy no older than 18 overly attached to his ass, was fucked up for having gotten _Levi_ overly attached to him, and, most important, was fucked up for having arranged for him and Armin to get overly attached to each other.

Levi would never have guessed he’d be going out for coffee with a child.

But, in his defense, he genuinely like the boy; he was smart and nice to be around, if only a bit too much upright. He has felt incredibly guilt when he found out Erwin was the one supporting him when his grandpa died, and equally as bad when Armin told him Erwin were going to help him into college.

It was infuriating Armin wouldn’t let him do any of these things for him, though.

Levi thinks he’d be better off if at least Armin blamed him for what happened, but he doesn’t; All Armin ever did was shake his head, waving a yellow mop from a side to another, telling Levi he’s not responsible for anything.

He looks back down at his phone. It’s 5:59PM. One minute to go, and then he can go home. Working was only half as fun after Hanji moved, and working now is just plain boring. He watches his phone, waiting for the white numbers to turn into 6PM. He sucks a sharp breath when his phone buzzes suddenly, and Armin’s name appears on his screen.

_‘Armin (5:59PM): Are you on night shift?’_

Levi unlocks his phone and types back, ‘ _No, my shift ends right now. Why?_ ’

Levi stares at the small numbers in the top of the screen; it’s 6PM already.

‘ _Ah. I’m attending an electronic fair in that yellow big building next to the hospital. I was going to ask if you were up to hot cocoa, but never mind. You are obviously tired.‘_

Levi rubs at his eyes. Hanji would never let him _being up for hot cocoa_ with a brat down. He thinks it’s a good thing she’s way too far to know, and types back, ‘ _Don’t you have any friends your age, you loser?_ ’ and then, ‘ _But yeah, okay_ ’

Armin sends a small, ‘ _Not really_ ’. Levi gets up from his chair, stretching before going to fetch his coat. It’s still cold as fuck, and he’s really, really tired. Fucking 18 hours shifts.

‘ _No, really, never mind. I just found out about a mechatronics lecture going on in the last floor_ ’ Armin sends after a second.

Levi puts his coat on and stares at his phone for a while. He knows Armin is lying – Armin would know about a lecture going on _anywhere_ before it even got scheduled, so it’s obvious he just doesn’t want to force Levi into accompanying him.

Honestly, Levi doesn’t mind – he wants to tell Armin it’s okay, but he feels so tired he doesn’t fight him. He just taps ‘ _Ok_ ’, and starts to go down the stairs. The trip down was way more pleasurable when he had Erwin to do it with him; right now the stairs feels cold and empty, and Levi drags his feet mindlessly until he reaches the first floor.

“Ah, Levi!”

He turns around. Petra smiles brightly at him.

“Hello,” he says back.

“Hi. Good work today. Sorry for overworking you. Thanks for covering my shift,” she says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Petra,” he replies. “It was just a couple of minutes.”

She nods, but she doesn’t look really convinced as Levi waves her goodbye.

He walks past her to the exit leading to the parking lot. Venturing in the cold is the worst feeling ever; he’s freezing to the bone with the first five steps, and he’s thankful his car is close enough that he doesn’t need to walk any much more than that, and he almost throws himself inside when he reaches it.

* * *

 

Eren feels his legs trembling after the door slams shut. He turns to the side and analyzes his tights. They are angry red all over, bruised and marked. It feels disgusting, and Eren contemplates a trip to the bathroom so he can wash himself with scalding hot water and scrub his skin until he feels himself going raw, but he doesn’t feel like moving.

Surely this was one hell of a rough fuck, but Eren likes it best this way – quick and right down to business. He hates it when the men buying him think it’s a nice idea to pay him attention – he doesn’t want any of them touching his body, much less his dick. Besides, it’s always worse when they do – he never really gets hard, and it makes the people buying him furious.

He pushes himself up with the strength he has left so he can store his money on his backpack and lock the door. Then he slips back his underwear and his clothing – cheap hotel rooms never have heaters, and the weather is going from cold to piss ass freezing.

He throws himself back on the hard, cheap mattress, throwing all the thin blankets on top of him. It takes him no longer than five minutes to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I lied about the cuts. BUT C'MON, I'm trying to take them down, okay? okay.
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> (next chap levi will meet eren again ok i promise)


	4. In which people drink too much coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi knows he will regret it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YELPS. I DID IT, finally. sighs. 
> 
> BUT FIRSTLY THANKS for everyone who read this and sent such awesome messages! I love you all, I swear.
> 
> Time is something I don't own anymore, and it makes me angry kfdjngkdjg honestly, I've known how I wanted this chapter to turn out for a while now - I had it all written on my mind, but when I attemped to type it down, it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to.
> 
> Still, I liked it very much. So I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!
> 
> um. I got rid of the cuts?

Levi sips at his wonderfully made coffee and sighs, contently. He muses about the odds of getting a hard on for a drink – he’s sure he’s fully capable of getting one, because lately there’s no other thing that makes him feel so good as the damned caffeinated shit this coffee shop Armin drags him to makes.

It’s his well deserved day off, and since Armin so thoughtfully spared him of hot cocoa the other night, they decide to go for it today. The boy works half period at a run down, old bookshop; the owner is a bald weirdo who’s always asking Armin to go to places for him (this being precisely the cause of Armin’s lateness). Even so, Armin likes the job – he can read any book he wants to, and, from time to time, he gets to bring home a book he really likes.

Though he didn’t know it before, this is now Levi’s favorite place; it’s small and kind of hidden in a calm street, so almost no one goes there; there are large windows in the front wall, and, in the back, behind the cashier, the wall is painted red, with small, white royal-like patterns. The heater is incredibly efficient and the insides are cozy and comfortable even in the freezing weather. _And_ the coffee is glorious, _yes._

He drinks the last of his coffee and decides he’s totally buying another one before Armin arrives. He starts to read the simply designed menu, trying to decide if he’s getting a cappuccino or another espresso.  He hums to himself and stares at the ceiling for a bit, wondering how much caffeine he can drink before his stomach starts to protest again, and then turns to look through the closed windows to the street, half hoping an answer for what to get next would magically appears in the snow covered ground.

His answer doesn’t come, though, but, instead, his gaze lies upon a person sitting in the sidewalk in the other side of the street. He narrows his eyes, getting instantly annoyed. _God damn it_ , he groans, staring hard at the damn person. This is familiar, _infuriatingly_ familiar. It makes him all the more pissed off when the person sitting in the sidewalk turns his head to shake snow out of their hair, and then their eyes meet.

He glares. He knows this person. He doesn’t remember where from, but he knows he does; Levi doesn’t know that many people, but he hardly forgets someone when they have some kind of interaction. He knows this shitty person, and it only serves the purpose of making him more pissed off.

Levi starts to search around his brains for a name, but after two minutes his attempts are proven fruitless, and then he narrows his eyes even more to try and get a better look of this damn shitstain.

It’s nobody from the hospital, he’s sure. This boy seems to be of Armin’s age, so there’s no way he can be a doctor. And Levi knows most of the nurses (but only because they are way better company than the other doctors), and this is none of them. He starts passing through all the faces he remembers, from Armin’s ‘friends’ to the people attending to Erwin’s funeral and the people from the picture Hanji sent him, of her and her equip in the labs.

Nothing.

He feels a terribly bad mood approaching him, and he sighs heavily to try and stop it. He leans back on his cushioned seat and stares at the chandelier, prompting it to tell him who the hell this little fucker is, why the fuck he always seems so keen to turn into a fucking snowmen, and, more important, why the fuck he’s always on the other side of the street.

Levi closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. If this is someone he knows, this means trouble; he’s fully aware he’s a man full of flaws – he’s short tempered and honest to the point of being rude; even though he’s good at hiding it, he’s terribly insecure and awkward; he’s impatient and anxious, _sure_ , but if there’s something he’s not, is hypocrite; he knows he’s the less altruist person out there, and he doesn’t like to go out of his way to help people – not at all. But he’s not that heartless of a person, either. He can’t let some acquaintance freezing in the winter (even though he’s very inclined to) and be alright with his himself.

But, when he opens his eyes again, it strikes him.

This boy. This damn dumb boy.

The whore from the other day, from when Armin was being a little pussy and snapped at the bar.

It’s him; it _has_ to be him.

Levi looks back and narrows his eyes again, leaning a bit towards the window, and watches the boy wrap his arms around himself.

It’s him, he’s sure.

He sighs relieved; _god damn it_ , he thought he’d have to act as the good guy and do something to help. He’s happy he will be able to maintain his selfishness where it is; this is just a fucking whore (a really bad one, actually – _what kind of whore wears jeans and cardigans, anyway)_ , which means it’s none of his business, which in turn matches the fact he doesn’t care.

His bad mood goes away instantly and he almost goes back to feeling content. He holds the menu in his hands and goes over the caffeinated drinks over again, and decides upon the cappuccino – Armin told him once it was glorious. He turns to get up and ask his drink in the cashier, but he catches movement from his peripheral vision and he looks through the window again, before he can stops himself.

The boy has gotten up. One of his legs is drawn up and he’s supporting a backpack on top of it, going about its contents. He watches as the brat pulls out a worn-out, thin-looking pullover and slips it over his head. The boy sinks to the ground again, and Levi stomps towards the cashier.

Oh, boy. He will regret it later, he _knows_ he will.

“Sir?” The girl in the cashier asks. He knows for a fact her name’s Annie – she does everything in the coffee shop and he likes her a lot because she doesn’t try to be nice.

“A hot cocoa. The biggest one you can manage,” he says.

Annie nods, turning around to wash her hands and get started on it. Levi taps his foot impatiently on the floor, watching over his shoulder through the window from time to time to check if the brat is still dumbly sitting in the sidewalk.

When he turns back to the cashier, Annie hands him a big ass cup. He’s halfway through getting his wallet out of his pocket when he spots colorful doughnuts sitting in the counter, inside a glass cover. He stares at the treats and they stare back.

“Is it fresh?” He asks, nodding towards the doughnuts.

Annie looks over her shoulder to where he’s signaling, and then nods. “Yeah, they were done just a while ago. Are still warm, I think.”

“I want them,” Levi says. Annie turns around again to get a brown paper bag. “All of them,” he adds.

He’s grateful she doesn’t ask questions, only shoves down the paper bag over ten doughnuts and hands it over to him. She’s going towards the cashier again, but before she can sum up what he owns the shop, Levi slaps down a couple of bills in the counter and says he’ll be back in a minute. He holds his purchases dearly to his chest and ventures out the coffee shop quickly, without looking at her again.

 _‘Oh shit, fuck. Fuck. Fucking freezing,’_ he thinks in a string, as soon as the door shuts close behind him. _‘Regret it later? Screw that. I’m regretting it already.’_

Levi crosses the street relatively more pissed off, muttering profanities and cursing the damn brat. He makes a beeline towards him, and then stops right in front of the boy.

“Oi,” he growls.

The boy turns his head to the side and stares at Levi. Levi glares back, eyes narrowed dangerously. They watch each other for what feels like eternity – something about this brat’s eyes makes his throat feels constricted, as if he’s staring deep inside his soul. His eyes are like the ocean in a bad day, when there’s too much wind and the waters swirl angrily around. Still, it’s  _beautiful_ in a totally odd way.

 “Yeah?” The boy says, slowly, watching him. Levi sees when something flash in his eyes and a small smile spreads over his face, too much baby fat making Levi’s heart ache for some reason. “Oh, you,” he says then, voice dropping an octave. “Did you change your mind, _sir_?”

Levi crouches down in the sidewalk and shoves the paper bag and the ridiculously big cup against the boy’s chest, carefully not to touch. “ _No_ , I didn’t change my damn mind,” he says, angrily. This boy remembering him so quickly is not helping his foul mood. “You can have this,” he says, and gets up.

He intends to leave as soon as possible, but for some reason his feet seems rooted to the spot, so instead he watches as the boy looks the cup over carefully. He seems immensely pleased with its warmth, and he holds is with his two hands, bringing it closer to his face.

Levi snorts. “So much for not wanting pity, eh?”

The boy looks up at him, brown tangled hair falling messily on his face. His eyes betray nothing; Levi watches the sea calm down through his thick lashes, and it leaves him uneasy. The boy eyes the cup thoughtfully, and makes a low sound in the back of his throat before staring at Levi again.  “So much for not wanting anything back, uh?” He replies, then. He stretches his arms, holding the brown bag and the cup in Levi’s direction. “You can take it back.”

_Damn._

“I don’t fucking want it back, I gave it to you,” Levi snaps, angrily tapping the ground.

“I see,” the boy nods, his eyes cold. He mouths the straw and sucks slowly, humming. “So, _what_ do you want?”

 _‘I don’t know’,_ Levi wants to scream. _‘I want to stop seeing you through every damned window I look.’_ He doesn’t say anything, though. Or maybe he does, he doesn’t know anymore; the boy’s looking up at him as if he was a fucking weird specimen, and it makes him all the more uneasy.

“You give me money,” the boy says slowly. “but don’t want my body. You feed me, but are an ass about it. What’s your deal, then?”

Levi sincerely doesn’t know what the fuck his deal is; probably just pity, really. He looks at this boy, and kind of sees Armin, laying in a street or selling his body; or maybe he sees himself, back in the days. He doesn’t know, but it pisses him off. He doesn’t really expect to help; money for a night and food for some hours won’t do this boy’s life any difference. He knows that; he knows how this kind of shitty life goes.

And even so, here he is, hoping he may help somehow without really having to compromise. They are just staring at each other, and Levi mildly remembers he has not given the boy an answer yet. “Just thought you looked like shit sleeping in the ground, that’s all,” he says, shrugging uninterestedly.

The boy nods, accepting that answer as a plausible one. He goes back to sipping. Levi can see the hot cocoa going slowly up the straw. He doesn’t know why he’s still standing dumbly there, watching as the damn brat nurses his drink and peers curiously at the brown paper bag. It’s kind of endearing the way he’s eager to drink, but forces himself to slow down in order to make it least longer; or the way he brings the warm cup to his red cheeks, using it for warmth.

“You should go somewhere,” Levi says, before he can stop himself. The boy looks up at him, confusion flashing in his eyes. “The subway, I mean,” he explains. “Or a mall. It’s better than standing outside, it’s freezing.”

He’s mildly surprised when the boy laughs – it’s a painful sound instead of an amused one, so he narrows his eyes at him dangerously, not sure if he’s being laughed at of if he just suggested something really funny.

“No, thank you,” the boy says. “C’mon, I’m embarrassing. Or so I’ve been told. Many times. Enough to make me believe it. Honestly, I’d rather freeze to death than being told to fuck off one more time,” he looks thoughtfully again, and then sips at his straw. “Besides, I think I’ve been sitting here for so long now, I’ve gone numb. It’s not even cold anymore.”

‘ _Lies,_ ’ Levi thinks, remembering him getting the pullover out of his backpack – and, from this close, Levi’s sure the shit he’s wearing and nothing are probably the same; his jeans are dark and skinny, but from the way his knees are so easily drawn up to his chest, he can say they are made from a thin fabric; the pullover is indeed worn out, with some spots getting transparent from being so thin. The way he’s dressed makes Levi feels self conscious; he thinks about the thick, warm jeans he’s wearing; about his flannel undershirt and the warm pullover under his coat, both made of wool; about his scarf, neatly wrapped around his neck; about the gloves he got rid a while ago when he arrived at the shop, and that are now sitting inside his pocket. Even with all his garments, Levi is still cold to the bone; the wind is unkind to his face, freezing his nose and his cheeks and his ears.

He has no clue as how the fuck this boy survived to this day, and he sternly tells himself he doesn’t care – it’s none of his business. It doesn’t help much, though, because the constricting feeling deep down his throat doesn’t go away.

“Well, whatever,” he says. “Just don’t die in front of my window.”

He turns to go back to the coffee shop, the need to get the fucking away from this boy starting to suffocate him, suddenly but efficiently. He doesn’t get to walk a single step, though – he hits something (or, rather, _someone_ ), and stumbles to stay up on his feet.

Levi manages to maintain his balance, and glares to the ground at whoever the fuck knocked onto him; only, he catches himself glaring at Armin, blonde hair all over the place, one book next to his head on the ground and two other ones on his stomach, his face ridiculously red all over.

“God damn it,” he growls, but steps forwards to hold a hand for Armin to take. “Warn a man, will you?”

Armin smiles, but shakes his head, gathering his books. “I can get up on my own,” he says, moving to get up but, instead, starting an awful process of losing his balance, slipping and pathetically ending up on the ground again. He looks up at Levi and lets out an embarrassing cry, kind of sounding like a dying whale, before he manages to get on his feet and start to pat snow out of his forest green coat.

He watches Armin suddenly getting interested in the ground behind himself, and turns to look over his shoulder to what has caught his attention. He stares back at the boy sitting in the ground, and then back to Armin.

“Who’s that?” He ask, curiosity written all over his face.

“Nobody,” he answers, harshly.

“Doesn’t seem like nobody,” Armin says, slowly, disapproving stare getting on Levi’s nerves to the point he’s very inclined to go away and let him there. “You were talking to him. Is that friend?”

“No,” Levi says. “That’s a whore.”

Armin opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, staring at the boy. The boy stares back at him, anger and hurt flashing on his eyes, even though his face stretches in an ugly smile. Then Armin glares at Levi. He looks like he wants to say something, but whatever he meant to voice was drowned by the other brat’s voice.

“He’s right though,” he says. “Just a whore, don’t mind me.”

They turn to look at him. He sips his hot cocoa and dips his hand in the paper bag, fishing up a pinky doughnut, making his best to look unhurt. He offers Armin a appeasing smile and shrugs, but it only serves the purpose of making Armin glare at Levi again and then stomp past him, crouching down in front of the boy like Levi did minutes before.

“Doesn’t matter, he shouldn’t speak like that,” he says, rushed. “If you are a doctor or a student or sells your body, is doesn’t matter. Besides…” he trails off, leaning a bit forward and entering the boy’s personal space without reservations.

He doesn’t say anything else, and the boy scouts away, his back pressed against the wall behind him. He looks positively lost, but curious to some extent; he looks at Armin, and then back at Levi as if unsure of what to do with his words – but Levi has nothing to offer him other than a glare, and then he turns his attention back to Armin. “Uh,” he manages, dumbly.

Levi steps to the side, curiously, to get a better view of Armin’s face. Six months around him be damned, the boy is just too weird even for Levi’s standards; he has no real friends, everyone always picking on him for being too nerdy and too upright; he has weird habits and weird interests; he’s always trying to talk sense into other people, which is annoying at best. But here he is, eyes gleaming with genuine interest as he analyzes a whore lying on the ground.

“Thank you…?” The boy says finally, hesitantly.

“No. I mean, I,” Armin says, leaning his head to the side and narrowing his eyes. He’s still totally leaning forwards, trapping the boy against the wall with only a bag of doughnuts between them, being held as a shield, as if it will make Armin go away. “What’s your name?”

The boy seems taken aback, then, like he doesn’t really want to say his name or engage into further talk with Armin. Being analyzed is uncomfortable, Levi knows. His cheeks start to get a fine, brighter red Levi’s sure it’s not due to the cold. It’s amusing someone like Armin can make a whore blush, and Levi does his back to bite down the smirk that treats to show in his face. In the end, though, he takes pity on the boy.

“Oi, brat, you are making him uncomfortable,” he calls.

Then it’s like a spell is broken. Armin straightens his back and goes tomato in less than 3 seconds. “Sorry,” he squeaks, getting up. “I’m sorry,” he says again, stepping back.

He’s graceless as an actual dying whale though, and he slips on the snow again. Levi rushes forwards and holds him, grunting when Armin’s head knocks hard on his chest. “For fucks sake, pay attention,” he groans, pushing him back to his feet.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, limbs too long for his body, and then he looks at Levi, trying to say something without talking – Levi’s not good at reading minds, though, so he just stares back blankly, until Armin squirms and says, in a really loud, high pitched voice, “Well, then, we better getting going, bye.“

He gets his books from the ground really quickly, holds them safely to his chest with an arm, and then starts to drag Levi away, one handing gripping at the sides of his coat in a vicious-like manner. Levi lets him, but only because he looks like he has seen hell and came back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO.
> 
> next chap Armin explains things, and then hopefully Eren gets a home soon! fkjngfjkdg
> 
> thanks for reading!


	5. In which Armin tells a tale of the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YELPS. I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE.
> 
> In my defense, I've got a really important test coming up soon, and I was really busy pretending to study (and getting frustrated over my lack of advancements) and I couldn't think about much. Today I just got really upset about life so I said a big fuck it all and then decided I was going to finish this chapter LOL
> 
> I'd like to say I know my writing is pretty dry up till now; I'm having a really hard time trying to get the hang of writing a multichap fanfic. I think it's not a secret that my skills lay with writing bad porn and stuff, but I'm trying.
> 
> I wanted to upload real fast... I've read this chap again twice and I think I've got it ridden of the most glaring mistakes (hopefully). Please do tell me if there's some left!

Levi lets his curiosity get the better of him when Armin pulls him towards the parking lot, after rounding a corner.  “So?” He prompts, crossing his arms impatiently. “What the fuck crawled up your ass?”

“Wait a minute,” Armin replies, holding a hand up. “Let me… think. Yeah, think.”

He doesn’t really want to rush him or anything, so he nods, figuring the boy may really need a minute or two; his face is a mess. Armin’s chest is rising and falling heavily while he catches his breath, but after three full minutes of just standing there, Levi being able to literally feel his ass starting to freeze and Armin making no move to start talking, he snaps. “Are you just going to stand there modeling for me forever, brat?”

Armin spares him a weird look, and then he walks back a little before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, then, finally. “Okay. Uh, so, well, you know how I’ve told you I’ve never really had any good friends, right?” He stops, just long enough for Levi to nod, and then he carries on. “Well… that’s not really true, I guess. I’ve had one, one really, really good friend. Well, two, actually, they were siblings – one boy and one girl; their names were Eren and Mikasa. I met Eren when I was finishing elementary school, and I was bullied in a daily basis back then,” Armin hums, looking up at the grey sky; Levi has to control himself as to not point out Armin is still bullied in a daily basis to this day, but refrains; instead, he nods politely an waits for him to continue.

“They both would always get in fights because of me, even though we barely knew each other. Mikasa was older, so I didn’t spent as much time with her as I spent with Eren, but we were all really good friends. I really liked them. When me and Eren started middle school, their mom… she died, but in a very weird way,” Armin sucks in the air harshly and turns to look at Levi with a sad smile on his face. “Eren was never much in a good relationship with his dad, and although he was good for Mikasa – did I mention she’s adopted? – she always chose to stick with Eren.”

“Soon after their mom passed out, his dad moved away from home. They never really knew, but they thought he was living with another woman, maybe even had a new family. He was a doctor, so he had a nice income and kept paying for their school, and once in a while he’d drop by so he could leave money for the month. Things went pretty smoothly by then, you know? They were happy by themselves, and Mikasa took it as her job to be Eren’s mom, so she did everything for him. He’d complain a lot, but he really loved her,” He smiles, remembering all the times Eren was such a jerk to her, always trying to push her away, but, at the same time, keeping her close.

“Well, yeah. Things got pretty weird when we were moving to high school, though. Mikasa had always studied Japanese, even since she was… well, I don’t know, ever since I remember, because it was her mom’s mother tongue, and she was pretty interested in it too. She applied for a scholarship to take college abroad in Japan, every expense covered by the university and all. But she never thought she’d get it, she only wanted to try it out because of the Japanese exam. She was really smart, though, and she managed to make it through. Then she decided she wasn’t going, mostly because of Eren. He asked me help convince her, because, honestly, it was an amazing opportunity, and then I did my part, you know. I talked to her relentlessly until she gave in, and then everything was good until she left.“

“We saw her out at the airport, and went home after that. School would start in the next week, so Eren was busy with all the homework he had left undone. We didn’t see each other for some days, and then, two days before school started, he called me.”

Levi watches as Armin’s face gets somehow dark, and he looks frightened and angry and a lot of things at the same time. He fists his hands at his sides and shakes his head, blonde hair moving softly from a side to another.

“That was a really weird phone call. His voice was terrible and he sounded like he was crying or something, and he only said ‘ _Armin, I think something bad happened_ ’ before going silent. I got worried and asked about Mikasa, but he said nothing was wrong with her. He was just… weird, you know, not like he usually was, so I got worried and asked what was wrong, and then I said I’d go over there to check on him. He told me off, said he was okay, asked me to hang on with him on the phone for a while, and then after some minutes, he hang up saying we’d see each other at school. I… I didn’t think things were alright, but I believed him; I thought he was missing Mikasa or something, and that he’d be really upset if I showed up and caught him crying because she wasn’t there, so I decided to do as he told me.”

“But… but, when school started, he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there either in the next day, or in the next. He didn’t show up at all. I was really worried, so I called him countless times, but he never picked up his phone. I went to his apartment, but the landlady told me he had moved out in the day before. I searched for him, Levi,” Armin says. His eyes water a little, but he rubs at them before any tears can form.

Levi doesn’t know what to say, and is immensely relieved when Armin looks at him, clearly not expecting an answer at all.

“I searched for him everywhere. I went to all the places we usually did, the places nearby to where we used to go; I asked everyone we knew back in elementary school, I called everyone he knew and I had the number. God, I even went to hospitals near our houses and the police station, but he suddenly disappeared. I wanted to claim him kidnapped to the police or something, but I thought… well, I thought, maybe… maybe, you know, I thought that, maybe, he didn’t want to be my friend anymore, or talk to me anymore. Maybe he was okay, and didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I accepted that as the most plausible reason as to why he disappeared, and I ignored his absence just fine for a week. Anxiety came back to eat at me, though; I knew something was wrong, and I went back to searching, but I didn’t find him. So, after a year, I thought he was dead. And I stopped searching.”

“Why didn’t you call his sister or something?” Levi asks, rubbing his hands in a vain attempt to warm them, gloves forgotten on his pocket.

“She didn’t have a phone when she left. She said she’d call Eren as soon as she bought one to give him the number and then he’d pass it down to me, but I’m not even sure if Mikasa got to talk to him.”

Armin relaxes and fists his hands a couple of times, and then looks at them. “I’ve tried to find him for a whole year, Levi, but I never even had a clue to where he was. I thought that, if something had happened to him, it was my fault – because I should have gone to his house when he called me, because he was always there for me, but when he needed me, I dismissed it. I never found him, but… but I think I just did.”

Levi would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting that much when Armin started to talk, but hearing it like that was kind of stunning. Levi tries to picture Armin, more frightened than he was usually, frantically searching for a friend. It was a sad scene, and he couldn’t do much more other than imagine; he couldn’t even know what the boy had felt at the time; Levi thinks he would have let go as soon as his calls would stay unanswered. He shrugs.

“You don’t even know if it’s him,” he tells Armin.

Armin looks at him for a moment, and then laughs softly. “No, I’m sure it’s him,” he says. “No way in hell someone could mistake his eyes for someone else’s.”

The memories suddenly come back rushing at him. Eren’s eyes shining with anger and determination the first time he tried to save Armin from being bullied, and then the way he looked so proud of himself when he thought he had managed to scare the bullies away (Eren was never intimidating enough, though; Mikasa was the one glaring daggers and sending everyone running back home). Eren’s eyes glinting with mischievousness when he grinned, the way they darkened in annoyance whenever Mikasa fawned over him. Eren’s eyes wetting after his mother’s death.

He could never forget his eyes.

Armin’s sure he’s smiling dumbly to himself; finding Eren is too good of a feeling. He looks at Levi’s face, searching for something, but finds nothing – he never finds anything. Levi is so different from Eren; he’s always stoic, always collected. He’s not the most eloquent person, though, and Levi has the same strong will he remembers Eren possessing. He wonders how he even gotten this caught up in their relationship; blaming it on emotional pain seemed enough before, but they were both healing just fine – and still as weirdly attached to one another as before.

“So, what will you do?” Levi asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stares hardly at Levi, thinking about it. He wants to help Eren, he wants to know what happened, why he disappeared afterwards. And then it strikes him – he has just left Eren alone in the middle of the street.

He sucks a harsh breath. “I need to go back,” he says, already starting to turn on his heels to go back from where he came.

A mad wave of thoughts run through his mind; he’s afraid of Eren not remembering him, and he’s upset he didn’t remember at all till now. He wonders how Eren got into this life, he wants to ask about Mikasa, wants to ask about school and his life and everything Eren lived when he wasn’t around to live it with him. He’s afraid of Eren pushing him away, but he makes his best to push these doubts to the back of his head while he rushes out of the parking lot and turns the corner he had turned minutes ago, heading to the coffee shop. He looks back over his shoulder, in time to see Levi reluctantly dragging his feet after him, for which he’s grateful.

He reaches the front of the coffee shop, the big brown letters reading _the best hot chocolate in the world_ making him smile briefly before he looks frantically, back and forth, in search of Eren. Eren’s not here anymore, though; he looks again and again, from one side of the street to the other, but he doesn’t see him anywhere.

Armin feels a pang on his chest, and he curses himself internally; ‘ _stupid,’_ his mind offers, unhelpfully. ‘ _You are so fucking stupid, Armin.’_

He runs back towards the parking lot to meet Levi, but he’s already in the middle of his away, so Armin stops in front of him. “He went away,” Armin says.

“Did you think he’d be sitting there forever?” Levi replies, raising a thin brow at him.

“Help me find him,” Armin pleads. “Please. Please, Levi, just– just, can you drive me around for a bit? Please?”

Levi stares him down hard. Armin has no idea what he’s thinking about, but he doesn’t have to actually force his face to remain determined; he _will_ look for Eren, Levi helping him or not. He feels uneasy as he can’t read anything in his steel eyes, so he just stands there, eyes darting around urgently as he waits for Levi to make up his mind.

After a moment, Levi sighs. “And then what? What will you do when you find him?”

“Help him,” Armin replied, automatically.

“You don’t know if he wants to be helped,” Levi says. “You have barely enough to support yourself; what do you think you can do?”

Armin furrows his brows.

He likes Levi, he really does. Levi’s blunt and rude and sometimes he makes Armin feel uncomfortable, but he likes Levi. But Levi’s terribly infuriating sometimes; he makes Armin’s levels of frustration hit record marks, the way he thinks or what he means not evident whenever he talks, whenever he moves, and Armin is often left there wondering if Levi is that much cold as to think money even matters in these situations.

“Even if I have barely enough for myself, I’m willing to share if he wants– no, if he _needs_ me to,” Armin says through gritted teeth, trying not to sound snappish. “I will look for him, Levi, I’ve set my mind. Your help right now will make it easier, but you don’t need to, if you don’t feel like it.”

He’s proud his voice doesn’t wave, and he holds Levi’s stare steadily. Having a goal make his resolution that much stronger, and when Levi sighs again, he knows he has won the battle; Levi’s not as bad as people believe he is; even though his willingness to help is often missing, he just as often helps anyway.

Armin offers him a grateful smile before rushing back the rest of the way, stopping only when he reached the passenger seat’s side of the car. They both got in silently after Levi unlocked it, and just as silently they pulled off of the parking lot, Armin pointing to the direction ahead of them with a quick explanation of _he couldn’t have taken the same way as us, because if so we would have seen him passing the parking lot_.

Levi watches as Armin looks from a window to another in search of his so called best friend, panic starting to get at his features. Levi half assed looks out of the window on his side once in a while, not sure what he’s after. He doesn’t want to look for this boy, he doesn’t want him on Armin’s life, occupying the little time that should have been directed at Levi. He knows he’s being unreasonable, stupid and downright ridiculous, but he doesn’t care.

He wants to monopolize the very last person he has somehow managed to form a bond to; he doesn’t want to share (because, whenever he does, shit happens – Hanji in the other fucking side of the country, Erwin slowly drifting away when alive, even his own unit shutting him out without meaning to sometimes). He wants to be selfish, and he’s not even one bit ashamed of himself.

They are driving slowly so they won’t miss him in case they see Eren. A little longer than five minutes has passed when Armin gives up chewing his bottom lip and turns briefly to look at Levi. “You know,” he breathes. “People sometimes get broken what seems like beyond repair. You may think money helps, but it doesn’t. Sometimes people don’t want your money – they just want your love, your attention. I,” he stops as his voice cracks a bit, and then Armin clears his throat before continuing. “I know I’ve got nothing to offer economically. But be it Eren, Erwin or you, I’m ready to pick up all the pieces and figure out how to glue them back together.”

Levi ignores him. He doesn’t want to think about Armin having to glue anyone back together, when he’s clearly the most broken soul he has ever met. He hates how the boy thinks _he_ of all people need to be fixed, when he has spent so much time convincing everyone – convincing himself even – he’s as good as new.

When Levi turns to look out of his window again, just so he doesn’t need to look at Armin, he catches sight of a brown messy mop of hair and a backpack disappearing into the subway entrance. He narrows his eyes, pretty sure he just caught the little kitten they are hunting. He finally chances a look at Armin, then, his eyes too wide for his face, and then he feels his resolve being setting into stone.

Levi drives right past the station, down the street.

* * *

 

After dropping Armin on the shitty place he calls a house (“We’ve _only searched for what, twenty minutes?!”_   “ _It’s been two god damn it hours, you constipated bastard._ ”) and finally going back home, Levi kicks off his shoes and stands at the door of his apartment for what feels like forever. He hasn’t felt this numb in a while; everything looks weird and seems to be going to come crashing down on him any second now.

He doesn’t quite know what brought the cold, uncomfortable feeling to the bottom of his stomach, but he hates it as much as it makes him feel as if he was lost. A million thoughts are on his mind, but he carefully picks up the most painful ones; it’s not something he does on purpose, but it happens once in a while, so he basks in the cold darkness clawing at his insides. Levi sees his childhood (or complete lack of) all again. He sees his parents, his poor life and all the dirty things he had to do before being awarded a little bit of decency. He feels shame eating at him for everything he did in order to survive, but pride at least starts to warm his insides when he realizes he really _did_ survive. He sees an obnoxious young Hanji, and then Erwin, and suddenly his life takes a sharp turn for the better.

Levi wonders what would have happened to himself if he was left on his own.

He wonders what will happen to this boy, Eren, if Armin doesn’t find him again.

He tells himself he cares little to nothing; this brat has been tormenting him since day zero, anyway.

Even so, as he leans against the wall and stares blindly at his dark living room, he can’t push away the brat’s face from his mind. Brown hair so messy it looked painful even; big eyes too expressive, but yet so full of different emotions at the same time making them difficult to read. He wonders for how much longer the damn cold weather will last, wonders if it will start to heat up soon. He hopes so; winter in the streets is the worst thing someone can live.

He sighs, suddenly so tired it feels like he has just worked two 18 hours shift, one right after another. He rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, until he starts to see lights dancing in the dark.

Should he have told Armin about the boy getting in the subway? ‘ _No’,_ his possessive, selfish side answers, as soon as the more decent part of his mind tells him ‘ _you should; you are an asshole – you selfish little fuck_. _You can call Armin now. Call him, tell him you saw the brat when you were coming back.’_ He blinks tiredly. ‘ _And then what? What’s the fucking big plan?’_

There’s no big plan, Levi knows, and although he wants to believe he’s right, his fucking conscience laughs at him and accuses him of being a hypocrite. As if he needed any reminder. He was once so lost only one person wasn’t enough to help him, but here he is, so fucking selfish he denies the kid help.

Levi groans. _What the fuck are you doing, anyway?_ , and he fumbles to get his feet on his boots again. He turns on his heels, opens the door and walks out before slamming it shut. He stares at the cold wood as if it has made him personal damage – and in a way, it did. _Couldn’t it have stuck or something?_

Locking his door before rushing back to the parking lot, Levi shivers when the cold air decides to be unkind to his face, and then he makes an awkward beeline to his car. It takes a while for him to manage the right key in the car’s locker, but he’s relieved when he’s finally inside, engines on and heater working.

“Well, now,” Levi hums to himself, staring hard at the car’s dashboard. “Where would you go if you were a brat whoring yourself out?”

It doesn’t take long for him to figure it out.

* * *

 

“Hey, kid, spread your legs.”

Eren rolls his eyes, face pressed against the stinking mattress. He wonders what people take whores to be; he’s not a damn gymnast or a contortionist, his body has limits. Unwillingly and a little painfully, he tries to spread his legs a little bit more. He doesn’t think he has moved as much as an inch, but the guy on top of him – Joe? Jimmy? Josh? _Josh is it_ – hums appreciatively and so Eren doesn’t really care.

They are at it for longer than forty minutes now, Eren thinks; that’s an awful long time for someone buying a whore – they usually last thirty minutes at best, always so fucking desperate like wild animals in heat. Eren likes them best this way; the quicker the better.

This Josh guy has a fucking ton of stamina, though, and Eren mentally sighs in relief for his ability of shutting down his mind at these times. He lets his thoughts drift off, and he wonders what Mikasa is up to these days. He thinks he’d be more grossed out about thinking of his sister in middle sex, but it feels surprisingly normal and soothing even; he hopes she’s doing alright. He can’t wait for her to come back; he doesn’t want to be a burden, but there’s no way he will keep up with this kind of shitty life when she’s back.

He moans casually, high pitched and fake, but Josh groans appreciatively. Eren shrugs, rolling his eyes. On-the-closet-gays are the worst, especially the ones married and with kids. They are so easy; all it takes to make them crazy is for Eren to stick his ass in the air for them and pretends he’s having fun.

Trying to adjust his head on a less painful angle, Eren grips the sheets and moves his head to the side. It’s a subtle movement, but the Josh’s hand comes from down his waist to his head, gripping painfully at his hair. Eren yelps in surprise, gritting his teeth; besides making him lose as fuck, selling his body is surely going to make him bald. _God damn it._

Josh starts to pick up his pace. Eren closes his eyes, counting the seconds for this oversized pig to finish. Then he sees a face – black hair parted neatly to the side and stormy, cold clouded skies eyes glaring at him. He snaps his eyes open again, alarmed. “Fuck,” he groans at himself.

“Yeah, fuck is right, bitch,” Josh says, his hands softening on Eren’s hair.

Eren ignores him. Eren’s good at ignoring things; he ignores it when people fuck him, he ignores the fear, the disgust. He ignores the feeling of starvation; he ignores the lack of sleep. But he can’t ignore this guy. He doesn’t know his name, or his age, or where the hell he came from; he doesn’t know anything about him, but somehow his brain keeps supplying him with images of him – of his eyes, of how short he is, of the way his mouth moves when he’s talking, all lack of grace and eloquence but still authoritative in a way that makes Eren insides warm up.

It’s annoying. He doesn’t know what the man is thinking; he doesn’t know what the wants from him. He’s weird. Nobody give away money without wanting something back, no one feed you without waiting something in return. Eren doesn’t trust him – he has learned he can trust nobody in this life – and, more often than nothing, in the short two times they’ve talked, that guy gave Eren one too many mixed feelings for him to like him in any way.

He thinks he went through these short encounters well enough, but deep inside he could feel embarrassment and self-conscious eating at him. He groans. And then he groans again, because oversized pig Josh is manhandling him so his face is not pressed in the mattress anymore.

Eren hates this position – on his back with his legs sprawled like that; he knows it’s stupid, but he feels too exposed, even though he knows there’s nothing much Josh hasn’t seen yet. Still, his flaccid cock resting on his belly is always something that makes his customers angry – how they expect Eren to get off on being pounded into mercilessly without preparation by someone he’s not even sure of the name, he has no clue.

But at least this one is finally peeling the condom off, paying no mind to his lack of interest. He jerks off furiously, grunting grossly and making dying animal’s noises. Eren watches with disgust as Josh aims to his chest; coming on him is not part of the agreements, but no one respects this rule; Eren’s grateful no one tries to bareback him, though, and by this time of the night he has no force to fight them anyway; Eren closes his eyes and scrunches up his nose when he feels warm, sticky come landing on his stomach.

He opens his eyes again, trying not to look so disgusted; Josh is pulling at his underwear, tucking himself back into his pants, and then he’s opening his wallet. “Enjoy the rest of your stay, pretty boy,” Josh says, getting Eren’s money from his wallet and putting it on the mattress. “It was good making business with you.”

Eren grits his teeth and offers him a really ugly smile. “Any time,” he says, the door slamming shut loudly. “Fucking pig,” he mutters under his breath.

Getting up is not a problem anymore; his legs trembling are really annoying, but he has no trouble ignoring them and the burning pain on his ass. He collects the money from the bed and walks to his backpack, stuffing it inside the smaller pocket before getting up and stretching.

With a sigh, Eren rushes to the bathroom. It stinks more than the mattress; reeks distinctly of piss and shit and puke. He fights the urge to throw up and holds his breath, going over the shower and tapping the water on.

He steps under the water spray, groaning loudly when the cold, freezing water hits his body. He jumps to the side, away from the water and glares. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he growls. Eren feels terribly tempted to wipe himself clean with the gray, disgusting looking toilet paper; it’s easier and a hell of a lot less cold. The come prickling at his stomach orders him to clean up properly, though; one look down to the mildly yellowish semen dripping down his body is enough to make disgust win over not freezing to death, and Eren bravely steps under the spray of water again.

Eren grabs at the small package sitting at the dirty soap dish, tearing at the plastic bag before scrubbing himself clean vigorously. He only moves away from his belly when his skin is marred by angry red spots, and then he starts to scrub his ass as if his life depends on it. He only stops when the thin, small soap looks like it will disappear at any second on his fingers, water having melted most of it. He sighs, looking around for shampoo or something he can use to wash his hair with, but, unsurprisingly, this shit hole in the wall claiming to be a decent motel has nothing of the sort.

He shrugs, rubbing his hands together around the last of his soap until foam covers his hands. Eren starts scrubbing at his hair, feeling it rough and dry and generally just too disgusting to touch. His strands stick together, but he rubs frantically until the cheap soap disappears entirely, and then he lets the cold water wash it away. He tries to slide his finger through his hair to help, but countless awful knots stop him, and he gives up, defeated.

Stopping the water, Eren steps back into the dirty, yellow tiles of the bathroom. He snatches up the rough towel hanging on the wall next to the shower, and starts drying himself off. He’s positive this towel haven’t been washed for at least a month, because it stinks as much as the rest of this place; Eren dries his hair, his upper body and legs, and then throws the disgusting towel on the floor.  He reaches for the awful toilet paper, makes a decent looking roll around his hand before attempting to dry off his ass and his dick.

Then he just gives up, toilet paper sticking to his hands, and he goes back to the room after his backpack, opening and rummaging through his few possessions until he finds a clean underwear sitting on the bottom. He fishes it up and proceeds to dress himself with the same clothes he had on before – a black washed jeans, a green shirt and his combo of his two only winter clothes, his gray pullover and worn out cardigan.

He’s done with his socks when a heavy banging on the door makes him jump. He gets up from the spot he’s sitting on the bed and opens the door. The round lady he saw before, sitting on the desk in the first floor, looks at him with a weird look before settling to glare directly at his eyes. “The guy that went off some time ago only paid for an hour,” she declares. “If you are staying, you have to pay me for the night.” She gives the room one weird look before adding as an afterthought, “In advance.”

Eren blinks. His terms clearly including paying a room for a night. He starts to feel anger creeping up his body, and he makes inhuman effort not to punch something. ‘ _That damn pig tricked me’_ , he groans internally. He tries to breathe himself into calming down; he has enough money to pay for a night, even though he doesn’t want to.  “How much?” Eren asks.

“Sixty dollars.”

“ _What_ ,” Eren replies, indignantly. “For this shitty place? Are you fucking serious?”

The woman glares at him and shrugs. “If you don’t want to stay, then out. Now. We don’t need filthy like you here anyway.”

Eren fists his hand on his sides, angrily. “Fine!” He snaps, catching his used underwear from the floor and stuffing it on his bag. He steps into his shoes, fists shaking at his sides as he tries to calm down, and then he stomps away angrily, past the _round motherfucker_ that’s in charge of the building. He’s honestly tempted into getting the boxers he just stuffed on his bag and throw it right on her greasy face.

He’s down the stairs and out of the motel quicker than he has ever moved in his life before. He steps on the once white snow that’s pilled on the sidewalk, the cold air hitting his face and his wet hair. He shivers, hands running up and down his sides in a vain attempt of producing some heat. At least the snow has stopped for a while.

Eren turns around, trying to decide on what to do next, and then he sees him. The pig that fooled him. He grits his teeth and, against what he knows it’s his better judgment, he trots on his direction, anger and frustration and just the general feeling of being done with life washing over his body. He stops angrily behind him, apparently unnoticed. Eren suppress the inner voice telling him about how’s he’s half the pig’s size and about how weak he currently is. He unclenches and clenches his hand again, and then swings his fist on his direction, hitting the back of Josh’s head full force.

“What the fuck,” he grunts in a wild way, turning around with arms already jerking to grab at whoever hit him.

Slipping to the side, Eren manages to dodge his muscled arms. “You fucker!” Eren yells, long time bottled up anger spilling away and out of control. “The deal was to pay for the whole god damn it night, motherfucker!”

Josh glares at Eren and moves his fist purposefully, easily hitting Eren’s face with enough force to knock him down. Eren coughed, tongue sliding against the back of his teeth instinctively as to feel if there’s something missing, face glued to the dirty snow, cold feeling soothing for once. He can hear some people on the busy street yelling, but, when he opens his eyes, no one is moving to help; instead, he sees the oversized pig crouching down next to his face, a sickening smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You punch like the fucking slut you are,” he says. “Pretty bad. Bitch, I’m not paying for a room for you to stay the night. Why don’t go out and whore your little loose ass for someone else and see if they don’t do you the favor? Huh?” He gets closer and his hand grips at Eren’s hair again, enough force for Eren to feel strands being ripped off of his scalp. Josh laughs, and then spits right on Eren’s face.

Eren wants to kill him. Eren wants to make him suffer, to tie him and cut his little dick off in a tortuous way. He’s pushing himself up to fucking punch him or kick him or _anything_ , but Josh is already up and turning around. Eren has just managed to sit up with a grunt when he sees that man again. He’s about to join Josh in his laughter, amused by the way this short man always shows up from nowhere, but his face hurts a lot so he refrains. Instead he watches as his short legs carry him forward until he’s on the same side of the street and closer.

“Oi, oi, you big ass motherfucker,” he says, loudly, and Josh turns to look at him with disbelief contorting his face and big fists clenched on his sides. His face’s as stoic and impassive as always, but something about the way his eyes flash when he stares at Eren on the ground and then back at Josh makes Eren bite the insides of his cheek. “Didn’t your mother teach you to not throw trash on the ground?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armin's too dramatic about stuff, yeah. But, well, I don't think Levi would go out of his way just to help someone completely unrelated to himself or to his friends, so I think it was needed. Also, I just had to send Mikasa away because I refuse to kill my princess, and I really want her back at some point!
> 
> Many thanks to all of you supporting this work ;3; Even though I highly doubt I will have time to write until 12.21, I swear I will do my best to update soon! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. In which something weird begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN.
> 
> sorry it took me a terribly long time but it's DONE!! FINALLY!

There are only two places a whore can hope to get luck in this damn shithole way up north called a city; besides downtown and vicinity, where all kind of stores and cafés pile up, there’s the Trost District – five long streets and a main avenue that cross together in many corners that are too propitious for naughty and illegal activities.

All night clubs and bars and brothels – from the high class, all red and black plushy walls to dirty holes in the wall, disgusting whorehouses – are cramped on one of these streets. Levi knows the best places are right in the middle, in the main avenue, but that the shadowy alleys surrounding the more peripheral streets are where the intense trades are made; you can buy anything in these alleys, from little children being sold out by drug addicted mothers to guns and all kind of illegal substances available – and, occasionally, you can hire one or two dudes to kill someone in your place.

Levi doesn’t like this district. Save from one, two really decent places with good drinks and acceptable cleaning standards he goes from time to time, he tries his best to go to the opposite side of the city. He doesn’t feel comfortable here, where he sees faces that get older but never change, where he knows where everything is located and which corner he should turn to find something. The fact he knows the district as the back of his hand makes him anxious and perturbed.

He rushes towards the main avenue, his car parked down in a calmer street that doesn’t seem to belong at all in the surroundings. The smell of weed and sex and sweat makes his nostrils burn, and the humidity exhaling from too many bodies in the same place makes his skin prickle. Levi tighten his coat around himself and focus on not slipping in the dirty snow – too much body heat somehow managing to melt a considerable amount, even though it’s still cold as fuck and the snow has only ceased to fall about three hours ago or so.

He only slows down when he sees his favorite bar, yellowish lights flashing _The Titan_ on the front. He pushes his way inside, and has to scare away two girls when they reach for the table he wants. He glares at them even though they rush to the back, and only when he can’t see them anymore he lets his body relax. He sits by the window, the hope to see Eren in the other side of the street at some point playing in the back of his mind; he knows it won’t happen because he has no such luck, but he can’t bring himself to erase the thought completely.

The waiter bumps against the side of his table only a second later, nodding at him in acknowledgment before taking Levi’s order for a _4 horsemen_ and rushing to the next table, and then disappearing back behind the counter.

Levi sighs. He doesn’t want to think about what he will do once he finds Eren. He’s sure he _will_ find him – not right now, probably; it will be at least three good hours before any whore get on the streets; until then he has a lot of time to put his thoughts together. But, even though pretending he doesn’t know what to make out of the situation is endearing for him right now, he’s pretty sure he has set his mind already.

He will take Eren home. His apartment complex is a weird old construction, and each apartment has a small storage down in the parking lot. There are only old people living there, and most of them throw everything inside, from old cushions to their grandchildren’s paints and wooden stuff he has no idea what the use actually is.  His small storage room has nothing but a few organized boxes; he’s sure he can fit the old mattress from his guest room there.

He rubs at his forehead, muttering a string of profanities. He really doesn’t want to bring a whore home – not at all. He doesn’t even know this boy, other than what can maybe be his name, that he’s a brat and a little shit, and that he has possibly the brightest and biggest stupid eyes Levi has ever seen. Also, whores are never that simple. They come with overly attached clients, debts, unhealthy and illegal addictions, weird tools that can probably kill someone, and, the worst, diseases.

Levi’s stomach makes a weird turn when he thinks about it; he wants to throw up as soon as they start to roll on his mind. ‘ _Gonorrhea, syphilis, HPV, hepatitis,’_ Levi groans, willing himself to feel deep disgust wash over him, remembering his days of college and residency. _‘HIV.’_

He jumps, startled when the waiter slaps his shot down on the wooden table. He glares at him, fiercely, as if he’s the source of all his problems, and the man excuses himself and runs away. He sighs, eyeing his drink. He inspects the glass thoroughly after some dirt, but it looks well washed and he can’t see any nasty mark of lipstick; Levi lifts his shot and drowns it at once, closing his eyes against the burning going down his throat.

He stretches his legs under the table, trying to block the obnoxious, loud people making too much noise. He hates these kinds of people, always laughing and talking nonstop. Life has taught him not to trust anyone too happy; they are false and dissimulate at worst and deeply annoying at best. He sighs and turns to look out of the window, foggy and greasy spots on the glass making him uncomfortable, but he tries to ignore them as he watches people going up and down the busy avenue. He leans back on his chair, wondering what he should tell Armin; he’s always around, taking residence on his apartment and claiming his guest room from time to time; there’s no way he won’t notice his damn mattress missing.

 _‘You will have to buy a new one for him,’_ he tells himself. Will he have to feed this damn Eren brat too? Levi shakes his head, tapping impatiently against the wooden surface of the table. He tries to remember how things happened back when he met Hanji and then Erwin, but his memories from those times are all blurred together, as if years were compressed to fit a day.

He shivers because of the cold. Too much self knowledge makes him accept the fact he has no calling to be a super hero; he’s nothing like Hanji, whose obtuse personality scares people to like her and let her in, and he can’t even think things thoroughly like Erwin; he has no idea what he will do after letting the boy take shelter on his storage room. Passing some days and maybe weeks, will he be allowed to dump him back on the streets? Will the boy expect him to provide help in any other way?

Maybe he will be expected to try and glue back pieces, as Armin has mentioned earlier. _‘That’s bullshit,’_ he realizes after a second. _‘I was never good with that tangram thingy,’_ Levi sighs again, running his hands up and down his legs in a vain attempted to get warmer. He doesn’t want to fix other people, it’s not his duty, and he sternly tells himself he doesn’t give a shit about this boy’s mental health. _‘There’s a reason as to why you are not a psychiatrist.’_

 _‘But you are responsible now, since you made Armin lost him,’_ he tells himself. He wants to bang his head against the glass window; maybe a heavy concussion and a major blood loss will help him through this mess. Instead, he rubs at his legs more fiercely, cursing the weather and the loudy bastards cramping the place and the smoke smell that’s suddenly assaulting his nose.

The loud shit going on around this bar is getting on his nerves and giving him a growing headache, so he decides to take his leave. He doesn’t want to sit here with chaotic people screaming for no reason, and as though he hates de idea, he thinks he could use a walk. He walks up to the bar counter and tells the woman mixing the drinks that he was sitting at table number nine. She moves some scraps of paper from a side to another after putting down a bottle of vodka and, after Levi hands her her money and accepts his change back (and also makes a mental note about how she didn’t wash her hands), he pushes his way through the increasing mass of bodies blocking his way and heads to the avenue again.

He only realizes how much he needed fresh air when he gets some. He inhales deeply and almost welcomes the cold wind on his face; it’s better than the reeking humidity filling _The Titan_ , making him feel slightly claustrophobic. 

Levi feels like leaving and never coming back, but this boy triggers something inside him even though he doesn’t understand what it is. He makes Levi feel guilty for his poor life, as if Levi himself had thrown him on the streets and ordered him to sell his body. He groans, starting to walk to nowhere in particular, looking from a side to another, searching for the faces of the people sitting on the sidewalk, but none of them is Eren.

He doesn’t look to his sides as he goes through the dark alleys between old buildings. He walks some more meters, down the sidewalk, avoiding piles of snow and people. When he turns to take up yet another street, not sure where he’s going at all with too many thoughts assaulting his mind, he sees the boy.

Everything happens fast, and he’s not sure why he feels rooted to the spot, but he stands there dumbly, on the other side of the street, watching as the tall, skinny boy occupying his thoughts attempts to swing his fist at a guy that mildly reminds him of a mountain.

Of course that was not a really good idea, Levi thinks, because anyone looking as malnourished as this boy will probably get their ass kicked. The mountain guy doesn’t even flinch at Eren’s punch, looking somewhere between amused and annoyed more than anything else. The guy turns around and Eren starts to shout with a mad look on his face, but Levi can’t make out the words that leave his mouth.

And then, as Levi blinks, Eren is already on the ground, face first on the dirty snow. He grits his teeth, hands tight on his side as he watches the guy snicker at Eren. He feels his head spinning with anger and guilty and _goddamnit who the fuck even hits a boy looking so miserable like that,_ and next thing he knows is that he’s stomping his way towards them.

He doesn’t think he has moved so fast in his life after he got a proper home to live in; he’s less than three meters away from the giant shitstain in just five seconds.

“Oi, oi, you big ass motherfucker,” he says, getting the guy attention. “Didn’t your mother teach you to not throw trash on the ground?”

He doesn’t even take note of what he’s saying; he feels angry for no reason, as if he was the one shoved on the ground. When the guy turns to look at him, already getting up, muscles tensing as he stares Levi down, he moves without thinking. He squeezes his fists tightly. There are so many people around this fucking street, why is nobody doing anything? Why no one stops a fucking huge guy from beating the shit out of such a frail looking boy? As he gets closer, he looks at Eren on the ground, looking scared and angry and on the verge of tears and guilt gnaws at him as if he was a treat given for a kid.

Levi knows the guy is out to punch him the moment he gets his attention; he’s grateful for his small size being this deceiving, because he’s strong and agile and he’s sure he can take on any fight. He kicks his leg forwards and assertively slams his boot full force against the guy’s crotch, patting himself on the back for a fucking good move when the mountain fucker stumbles to stay on his feet, groaning in pain.

He’s not done though. The guy is doubled over, clutching at his offending dick and making animal noises. He takes advantage of his more accessible height now and swings his fist at the side of his face. He’s not even using all his strength, but the guy falls so pathetically on the ground that he’s left stunned for a moment.

Eren looks from him to the guy, his face glowing with bewilderment and his mouth hanging wide open. _‘What the fuck just happened,’_ is plastered all over his face, and he rushes to get up and away from the Josh or what the fuck guy the faster he can. He doesn’t even know why, but he ends up standing awkwardly behind Levi, as if trying to hide himself. _‘But it’s like an elephant hiding behind a rat,’_ he thinks to himself, taking Levi full height barely reaching his ears.

“You better run away, your fucker, or I will fucking cut off your dick and feed the rats,” Eren hears him say, voice dangerous and low.

The guy picks himself up from the ground at light’s speed, shouting so many profanities Eren doesn’t even know them all. He runs away, jumping weirdly from what can only be his dick hurting too much. They both watch him go in silence; Levi’s slowing breath calming Eren down as they stand there awkwardly.

“Wh–”

“Shut up,” Levi says, blinking as he turns to look at Eren, hair wildly knotted and face already looking painfully swollen. Eren opens his mouth to protest, to question what the fuck is going on, but Levi narrows his eyes, gritting his teeth and effectively shutting Eren up. “Start walking.”

Something about the way he says that irks Eren; the hidden commanding tone, leaving no room for argument. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just stands there, without moving, until he feels a hand touching the small of his back, applying pressure and coaxing him into moving.

His head is a mess, thoughts swirling madly on his mind as he walks numbly, letting himself be guided by this man. Eren has been touched by all kind of men in his life, in all kind of situations possible; but no hand on his back made him feel _safe_ like he’s feeling now. It feels as if he’s seeing someone he really likes again after a long, long time; feels the same as when Mikasa scolded him, but hugged him afterwards to make him sure she wasn’t mad. It got him walking without protest, without even minding his legs carrying him.

He blinks in wonder. He tries to glance at the man’s face subtly, but he meets his hard, steely stare right on. He feels like he should say something, _anything_ , but then the warm hand on his back in gone and he stops walking, as if he has lost all his ability to move and talk altogether.

Eren watches as he takes some steps forwards, and then he raises his hands to run through his black, shiny locks in exasperation before turning back to face Eren again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks, voice angry and louder than Eren has heard before. He opens his mouth to try and form a coherent sound again, but he’s shut up before he can even think about something decent to say. “Did you think you could take a huge motherfucker like that in a fight?”

Eren blinks, anger filling him so quick it leaves him dizzy. “Did _you_ think you could do something?! _Look_ at you! It was pure luck!” The glare Eren receives back clearly tells him he has hit a nerve, _maybe_ , but wanting to hurt his feelings fuels Eren’s anger on and on, and he fists his hands on his sides before going on. “Yeah! That’s right. Look at you, damn it, you midget.”

“Shut up!” Levi shouts, his voice weird to his own ears as he creeps closer to Eren again, leans too close and look up at him; he’s not offended by the comment on his height, no. He’s angry because this is all a huge mess; Eren is a huge mess and now he feels responsible enough and guilty enough and it makes _him_ a huge mess. ‘ _What if I wasn’t there?’_

He breathes deeply when Eren shuts up, his cheeks flushing; maybe from coldness or maybe from embarrassment for being yelled at like a kid, Levi doesn’t know. He’s taking his time to calm down, to seize back his cool. They glare silently at one another, intently; Levi takes on the way the mop of brown hair sticks in all directions, what could only be long bangs falling down over his browns, knitted together. They only break eye contact when Levi backs off and takes a step back.

“Eren,” he says, tentatively, just to make sure.

Eren looks at him with a weird face, one that’s trying to remain straight but contorts _oh_ so clearly with surprise. That’s all Levi needs to be positive that yes, this is the right brat, the one Armin was talking about. This boy is ridiculous. Everything shows right on his face, as if being written with glowing, bold letters, begging to be read.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you knowing my name,” Eren says, quietly, looking away from Levi’s face for a moment. “I didn’t tell you, and I don’t know yours. I don’t even know you, god damn it, why d–”

“Levi,” he interrupts, talking clearly. Eren shots him a confused look and he sighs. “My name is Levi, Jesus Christ. Are you this fucking slow by default, or did you smoke so much weed you lost the last fucking neurons you had?” Levi ignores his glare and goes on. “Now we are on the same page, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“If you can’t guess, I don’t feel up for sex right now,” Eren declares, angrily, but when it gets him nothing other than the usual hard stare, he bites the inside of his lip, thoughtfully. “And I don’t do parties. And I don’t want to work for you, if you are pimp,” he says, feeling somewhat inclined to think that he is. “And I don’t bareback, _ever._ ”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Levi asks.

“Well, I don’t know!” Eren groans, loudly. He feels extremely frustrated for not knowing what this guy – what Levi is thinking, what he’s talking about. “ _What_ do you want? Why do you help me when you are clearly so focused on pissing me off? _Stop_ looking at me like that! I don’t want your pity, I don’t want your help, I don’t want _anything_ from you!” Eren snaps, almost shouting as he vents it all out.

He knows he should shut up; this guy has helped him out more than once in less than five days, and it’s been _so_ long since anyone touched him without meaning harm. Or without wanting to fuck him. But he’s not even sure if he doesn’t, really, of if he’s just better at beating around the bush. Levi leaves Eren utterly confused and in a loss about what to say; if he tries to be grateful, he’s promptly shrugged off, and if he tries to act as if he doesn’t care, he just gets laughed at.

Eren shivers, suddenly very aware of the wind dancing around himself. He wraps his hands around himself, clutching at his old as fuck cardigan. He mildly remembers about his hair still being wet, and prays for whatever god up there to help him not get a cold; money’s short as it is, he doesn’t need to buy medicines to get his situation even worse.

Figuring he’s bound to have no reply, he’s about to turn around and leave, try to figure out how to spend the night and nurse his blacking eye, but Levi sighs, drawing his attention back and running his hands through his hair again. “All I want you to do is walk and shut up. In fact, screw that, I want you to shut up _and then_ walk.”

“And where are we going?” Eren asks, trying to squeeze his arms more closely to his body, moving from a leg to another in an attempt to rub his thighs warmer.

“Nowhere, if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Eren wants to wish him a good night, then, tell him that Levi is wrong if he thinks he will be followed without explaining anything. He doesn’t; instead, as soon as Levi shots him a pointed look and resumes his walking, Eren rushes to match his pace as he marches towards only god knows where.

They walk in silence again, Eren sneaking glances at Levi’s hand, wishing he’d touch him again more than he’s ready to admit to himself. He craves this kind of uninterested proximity these days; the closest he has of a friend is that drug dealer near the main avenue in the Trost District that shouts to him every time they see each other and attempted to slap his ass twice (he always misses, for which Eren is extremely grateful).

He’s still trying to produce some warmth rubbing his hands on his arms and his legs together as he walks. He falls some steps behind and watches as Levi moves, graceless and hard as if he’s made of steel, resembling nothing the man fluidly punching and kicking just some minutes ago. His stare settles on the back of his head, taking in his silky hair and unfashionable undercut. Eren feels extremely self conscious about his appearance right then; He doesn’t think he’s extremely ugly or anything like that, but life was unkind to him these last years, and he’s terribly aware of his hair being as disgusting as it can get, and although his rushed baths and laundry done on the bathroom’s sink can probably cover up any major weird smell, he knows he’s not exactly exhaling the scent of flowers.

His clothes are a mess too. It’s been months since he last set feet on a clothing store; the last item he acquired was given to him by one of his clients, and it consisted in totally shameful, embarrassing spandex pants. He was very inclined to set the damn shit on fire when left alone with it, but decided against his better judgment since it was comfortable to wear under his jeans on the colder days (but it’s been a long time since he tried it on; spandex takes forever to dry and the damn thing is just too dirt for him to wear right now). Eren thanks all the gods for his face being decent; he doesn’t know how he’d have survived until this point otherwise.

Levi looks really well dressed, though; from what Eren can see, his black pants are a perfect fit, and his gray pullover looks extremely warm under his thick coat. Levi must be one of these persons who really can’t stand the cold weather, Eren wonders, what with how many times his forest green scarf is wrapped around his neck.

He only notices they’ve reached their destination when Levi stops walking and circles a black car so he can shove his key on the locker. Eren blinks, looking around until he recognizes the street. He turns to look at the car again, his brows furrowed; Levi looks like the kind of rich bastard that’d drive something really, really fancy, so he’s surprised when the car is nothing more than a popular Honda. He narrows his eyes to read _Accord_ on the back.

“When was the last time you bathed?” Levi asks, pulling him out of his awe.

Eren blinks. “Today? Just a while ago,” he replies, then. “Why?”

“Just checking,” he says. “Get on the car,” Levi adds, before slipping to his seat and slamming the door shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i know this is still dry as fuck, i'm working on that. buuuuut on my defense, the story is only warming up now. i can guarantee that from now on things will be more fun ;3; there will be a lot of ereri and levi/armin and i will work on some platonic eruri somewhere in the future. ALSO HANJI.
> 
> I HONESTLY CAN'T WAIT TO THROW HANJI IN, OMG I LOVE HER.
> 
> next chapter: eren is a weird kid doing weird things on the weird storage room
> 
> (also thank you so much for reading and coping up with my shit. i think i haven't said this before, but i'd love to hear from you, so feel free to leave me a message if you have anything you'd like to say!)
> 
> (am i allowed to open so many parenthesis i dont even know but hEY I SWEAR - AND I'M SERIOUS THIS TIME, next chapter will be out in no time)
> 
> (or so i hope)
> 
> (also this isn't beta read so i'm so sorry if there are many, many typos. feel free to point them out for me, too! sobs)


	7. In which the storage room is introduced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE CUTS ARE BACK.
> 
> But, on my defense, i got to write it faster! Also, this is actually my favorite chapter until now; this is the kind of writing I'm way more comfortable with, even though it's still not my usual style, I guess.
> 
> (but only because my usual style is porn pls)
> 
> enjoy

The drive to only-god-knows-where was not actually a really long one, Eren thinks; it passed in the blink of an eye, or maybe it was because his blink was not actually a blink but a decent nap – the amazing heater on Levi’s car may or may not have lulled him to sleep.

He’s very sad when Levi tells him to get _the fuck off_ his car; Eren would agree on staying there forever, as long as the damn temperature was kept the same. He sighs and gloomily gets out, standing awkwardly and relatively angrier than before. He stares at a not so high building; he counts the floors until ten and then stares blankly at Levi.

“I live here,” he says, in a tone that clearly tells Eren he would rather not have said anything.

Eren furrows his brows and watches Levi as if he’s popped another head. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks. “ _Nobody_ brings a whore to fuck at home. That’s just weird.”

“Maybe it’s because I won’t fuck you?” Levi offers in a snappish way.

That only serves to make Eren’s confusion greater. He stares after Levi’s back when he starts walking towards the walls of the parking lot. Eren narrows his eyes, following hesitantly, and realizes the wall is not really a wall, but a line up of small garage-like things. He stops walking when Levi unlocks the door showing the numbers _91_ , and watches as the man disappears inside.

The light is on some seconds after, and then Levi turns to look at him. “Come on, hand me that bag of yours,” he says, impatiently, tapping his fingers against a small wooden table on the back of the room.

“Why should I?” Eren asks, crossing his arms stubbornly. He looks around the room, but it’s really, really small; there isn’t much to see, either – just a few transparent plastic boxes, the table Levi is tapping on and a matching wooden chair.

“Just hand me the damn thing,” Levi hisses, and Eren can almost see his silky hair standing up like a cat’s fur in the midst of a fury attack.

But there it is – the hidden commanding undertones again, so he blinks and walks inside, handing his old bag to Levi, feeling stupid and impotent and wanting to punch himself for showing so little resistance.

Otherwise, Levi looks immensely pleased when Eren doesn’t press with any more questions – well, as pleased as one can look with a scowl on their face while holding a bag as if holding a dead rat. Eren is ready to tell him to go fuck himself, take his bag back and run away when Levi unzips it and turns the bag upside-down, all of Eren’s possessions falling with a loud bang on top of the wooden table.

“ _What_ are you doing?” Eren asks, feeling a bit panicked when he spots his glorious spandex pants balled up on top of his things. “You can’t just go throwing my things out like that!”

“Oh, shut up,” Levi says, casually. “I just want to make sure you don’t have anything dangerous in there,” he hums, and then adds as an afterthought, “Actually, look, kid, let’s make things easier for both of us. There are anything in there you’d hide from a cop?”

Eren blinks. “Are _you_ a cop?”

“No, but you won’t want to let me see anything you wouldn’t want a cop to see. So, yes or no?”

“Yes,” Eren says. “There are a lot of things I’d rather you don’t see,” he’s honest, but only because his spandex pants are positively glowing on top of his belongs; he _knows_ he will be made fun of.

Levi stares at him hard, trying to figure out what’s the kid’s deal. He doesn’t look like he’s on drugs – at least Levi can tell he’s not high right now, but he _does_ look too skinny. Skinny and dangerously average; Levi’s sure this boy can sneak and nip up things from stores without being noticed. He narrows his eyes, deciding he’s going to go through the pile of items anyway.

He looks at it with evident disgust as he pinches a black thing on top of the pile and unfolds it. He stares blankly at the tightest, most embarrassing pair of pants he has ever seen in his life before raising his brows so high at Eren he feels like they are entering his hairline and never getting down.

Eren shrugs, color slowly creeping up his cheeks. “I told you,” he mutters, raising his shoulders.

Levi folds the offending item the best he can while touching it with only two fingers, and then he pushes the pants to the side in the table. He proceeds his quest through Eren’s belonging staring down at a white shirt that’s actually yellow now, and then folds it so he can put it on top of the pants.

One piece of clothing after another, Levi inspects them all and folds neatly to the side. He passes a green shirt, a stamped black shirt, a white button down and a black tank top. There is two other pair of pants; one black and one light washed jeans. He pushes three pairs of black underwear to the side using the belt in Eren’s bag, and he has to fight the urge to run away to his bathroom so he can pour liters of disinfectant on his hands.

He finishes the clothing with socks, and marvels the fact someone can survive with only that. He was always clean, even before, and although his clothes were always a mess, ripped in many spots and worn out, they were thoroughly washed and put to dry on the sun until they were warm. He needed at least five undergarments to be happy; he refused to wear something twice, and the weather liked to play tricks on him back them – even though he washed his damn boxers every day, the usual cold wind made his clothes take days to dry. He needed many to be on the safe side.

Levi shakes his head softly and grips at the possibly biggest pack of condoms existent. The size reads _Medium_ , but there are many other small packets from _Small_ to _Extra Extra Large_ (Levi mildly wonders what’s a _extra extra large_ dick is supposed to be like, but the image scares the hell out of him, so he pushes the thought to the back of his mind before he’s scarred to life). There is also a large bottle of something he assumes it’s lube; Levi picks out what can only be countless girly hair bands and accessories, and then the troublesome assortment of items begin.

“What do you use this razor for?” Levi asks, pushing it to the side the same way he did with the underwear.

Eren blinks. “To shave?” He offers, dumbly.

Levi looks at him suspiciously. He doesn’t believe it; for all he knows, this kid could be cutting and self-destructive as many of the kids he knew back in the time. At the same time, though, Eren looks honest enough. With one last suspicious look, Levi decides to take his word for now; he will promptly inspect his arms and legs after scars tomorrow.

“And the scissors?”

“To cut off my clients’ dicks,” Eren replies, smiling at his own joke. His face falls when Levi’s face remains blank, and he sighs dramatically. “To cut my hair. I can’t exactly afford a hairdresser. What is this, anyway? An interrogatory?”

Levi glares at him and turns back to the table. He pokes at five packets of cheap branded cookies, a bag of chips and a bottle of water. Everything looks normal, and he quickly unzips the small pockets at the bag’s sides; there are only more condoms, a tissue packet, an old walled and an even older phone.

“Okay,” Levi says, then, satisfied with his search. He was kind of hoping to find needles or at least a pack of cigarettes, _anything_ that’d justify throwing Eren right out. Now he feels even guiltier to have doubted this kid’s integrity, even though he repeatedly tells himself he’s just being cautious. Eren glares at him when Levi starts to walk again, leaving all his possessions scattered on the table. He rushes to his belonging’s aid, but Levi stops him before he can touch anything. “Leave it there; I need your help with something.”

Eren rubs at his face with his hands, wondering what the hell is going on with his night. _‘This guy’s the weirdest dude in the fucking universe,’_ he idly thinks, following him anyway. At this point he doesn’t care anymore, not even if Levi is actually a serial murderer. _‘He makes me feel like shit, give me the best damn hot cocoa of my life, humiliates me in front of his boyfriend or whatever, then punches someone just to save me – I’m one hundred percent it was for saving me, yells at me, forces me into his car, drives me to his home, looks at all my shit and then he needs my help to something,’_ he starts to climb up the stairs, losing his breath with the first ten steps. Levi still looks as good as before. _‘Fucking weird.’_

After climbing what feels like the Everest, Eren clutches at his knees and tries to catch his breath. Levi unlocks the door and turns to look at Eren again, seriously. “Wait here. _Don’t_ come inside.”

‘ _Don’t come inside,_ ’Eren repeats on his mind, smiling at the terribly worded sentence he can’t say if it’s on purpose or not. He straightens his back and looks around. He doesn’t mean to pry, but he can’t help as he ogles Levi’s living room. He hadn’t stopped to take the building’s size up till now, but, as he looks around, he realizes it’s actually a really small one. Levi’s living room is _tiny_ , but, as far as he can see, everything is perfectly placed, and the minimum furniture makes it looks actually bigger than it is.

Exactly as his car, Levi’s home is a surprise to him. Eren was one hundred percent positive Levi was a rich bastard; now, though, he’s not sure anymore. Levi _looks_ rich, all elegant and confident, barking out hided orders and looking hot. He also has a lot of money to spend, Eren thinks, so he _must_ be rich. ‘ _Maybe he’s actually just a humble person._ ’

He hears a tud sound and then Levi appears on the hallway, pushing something in with him along the way. Eren watches curiously into the dark living room, trying to make out what is it being dragged all the way to the door. He only gets it when Levi stops in front of him, looks exerted and pissed off, but with no apparent sweat on his face.

“We are bringing it down to the storage room,” he explains. “Don’t let it touch the ground.”

Eren watches the mattress curiously, and then peers at Levi’s face, but he gives Eren a pointed look that promptly asks him why the fuck he isn’t getting a good grip on it yet. Eren reluctantly holds the other side of the mattress, but discovers it’s way heavier than he initially thought. He blinks, putting on more strength and finally managing to lift the thick mattress from Levi’s living room’s floor.

He walks backwards, slowly going down the Everest. He’s positively more confused now than he was ten minutes ago; Levi said they aren’t going to fuck, so what the fuck is the mattress for? And even if they _are_ going to fuck, why would they do that in a room that he’s not even sure fits the mattress inside?

They climb all the stairs, finally reaching the parking lot again. They carry the mattress to the storage room, Levi arranging it where it fits and looking in a twist of emotions. “I will go get some beddings,” he says, and Eren nods dumbly at him. “Don’t touch anything,” Levi adds.

He quickly goes back outside, carefully as not to slip in the dirty snow, and goes up the nine rows of stairs the faster he can. He steps out of his boots in the entrance, and rushes to his room so he can fetch two sheets and a thick blanket. He mourns over the lost of what was possibly the warmer blanket ever; he knows Eren will need it more than him, though, because he has a heater that works wonders in his house, while the storage room is as cold as the arctic.

He sighs, reaching the living room and stepping onto his boots again. He runs back to the storage room, afraid Eren will be gone or will have touched something. When he’s finally inside the small room, Eren is still standing as dumbly as before, on the exactly same place he left him.

“What’s that?” Eren asks, peering curiously at the beddings.

Levi chews at his bottom lip for a second; maybe he’s _really_ lacking an explanation to this boy, and this time is as good as any to pop the news. “You can stay,” Levi says. “That’s my proposition. You can stay on my storage room through the winter, as long as you don’t do drugs, drink or bring anyone over. Also can’t touch anything,” he says.

Eren looks from Levi to the mattress, back to Levi, stunned. Did Levi really just asked him to stay? As in, _stay_? “Why?” he asks. “Why would you want me to stay?”

“Does it matter? You have nowhere to go, right? I’m sick of seeing your face through the window, so here we are. You get a damn fine mattress and a roof, so you can’t complain about anything.”

“And then what?” Eren presses. “What will _you_ get out of this?”

“Nothing,” Levi says truthfully. “I will get nothing. Will you stay?”

Eren closes his eyes and thinks. He really has nowhere to go; it’s cold and late and some part of him trusts Levi already, against his better judgment. He doesn’t know what this invitation is supposed to mean, and he’s not even sure if Levi is or isn’t a serial killer. He doesn’t know anything, and, yet, he really wants to stay. He groans.

“Will I get to pay you back somehow?”

“Maybe,” Levi says. “That’s a yes, brat?”

“How do you know my name?” Eren asks instead, shuffling from a leg to another.

“God damn it, kid, it’s a yes or no question!”

“You don’t want me here,” he points out, because that much is obvious. Levi’s disgusted by him, and he’s not even trying to pretend he isn’t. Eren wants to stay, but he doesn’t want pity or half assed aid from someone he barely knows; he will stay as long as he can pay him back, as long as he’s wanted where he is.

He watches as Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his perfectly straight nose. “Look, brat,” he starts in a tired voice. “If I ever tell you my dream was to bring someone I barely know home and let them stay on my storage room, I will be fucking lying. But the thing is, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing you all the damn way here if I wasn’t ready to take you in, so there we are.”

“Nobody will get mad? Over you keeping a _person_ on your storage room?”

Levi laughs, and Eren burns the sound deep into his mind; it’s one of the most beautiful and sad things he has ever listened to. It makes Eren want to hear it again and again, and run away from it in equal parts. “The woman living at the 52 keeps a lot of rats and someone _is_ raising roaches, I’m sure. Nobody will give a fuck,” he says.

Eren nods. “Okay. As long as you let me pay you back.”

 

* * *

 

When Levi finally hits his bed, he’s conflicted and angry and happy and having all sort of mixed feelings one can have. He feels relieved Eren is okay, that Eren will stay and that he won’t have to carry any burden about a kid dying for his lack of heart. But Eren _is_ okay and sleeping in his god damn it _storage_ _room._

Levi’s sure he has gone nuts. Absolutely sure. There’s no doubt.

He’s not even able to keep his own self at check, it seems, since his emotions are running wild and he positively feels his life spiraling out of control. He has been on a roller coaster of moods lately, ever since Erwin’s death; he’s used to waking up like it’s the best day of his life and going to sleep wanting to never wake up, but his frustrations around Eren are way worse than his bad ways of coping with Erwin not being there anymore.

He rolls around his bed, fumbling with his pone idly. He only notices he has called Hanji when her loud, obnoxious shriek is heard clearly even though the speakers are off.

 _“Oh my god, you are calling me. Why are you calling me?! Do you know how many times you called me ever since I moved away? None! Is this one of these life or death situations where you click the speed dial in order to survive?!”_ she screams, Levi tentatively holding his phone closer. _“Are you okay?!”_

“Depends on how you will be about it,” he answers, closing his eyes. “And what make you think I have _your_ number on speed dial?”

 _“You sound like shit,”_ she says. _“You usually only_ look _like shit, so I’m worried.”_

“Thanks, I’m hanging up,” he declares.

Hanji starts to scream madly, so he pushes his phone away from his ear. Levi smiles; he misses Hanji. He really, really misses her and her madness. She goes silent after three minutes of chaos, and then he finally brings the phone closer again.

 _“You didn’t hang up,”_ she notes. _“You are definitely bad.”_

“I am,” he concedes, curling around himself in a messed ball with the sheets and the blankets.

 _“Oh, Levi,”_ she coos. _“I’m sorry, I really should–”_

“No, it’s okay,” Levi interrupts. He hates it when Hanji is considerate; she only is when shit is going down or when Levi makes her feel as if she was the source of his problems. He hates himself for it, but he won’t ever tell her. “You are coming next week. I will be okay.”

She’s silent, the only thing giving away she’s still on the line is the wave of static reaching Levi due to her breathing. _“Okay,”_ she says finally, hesitantly. _“Where will I sleep?”_ She asks, skillfully redirecting the conversation’s flow.

“Outside, with the rats,” Levi replies.

Hanji hums melodically, and then laughs. _“How cold. I was looking forward for you to invite me back on your bed.”_

Levi doesn’t say anything, just nods, even though she can’t see. “You definitely can’t hang up until I fall asleep, shitty glasses,” he murmurs.

Hanji laughs, but hold the phone to her ear until she can tell Levi is sleeping.

 

* * *

 

The next day passes in a rush. Levi wakes up with his phone scattered on the floor, and his ear hurts for being pressed against it for what can only have been so long. He bathes and goes down to the storage room, opening the door slowly and quietly. He expects – _wishes_ – Eren to be gone, but when he peers inside, the brat is exactly where he left him; only, now he’s a tangled mess with the shits and his most beloved warm blanket (Levi allows himself a moment to mourn over his loss).

Levi stares at his face and wonders how someone can sleep with such a stupid face. He looks peaceful and comfortable, drowning on deep sleep. He shakes his head and pins a post-it to the door from the inside, telling Eren he _can leave if you want, can come back if you want. The door is open. Don’t touch anything._

Then he speed walks to his car, the morning coldness making him upset until he reaches the hospital, greets several people on his way to his yard ( _was there even that many people to greet before)_ and bumps on Petra when he turns a corner, almost knocking her over.

She peers at him curiously for a moment before giggling to herself with a glint in her eyes that promptly tells Levi she _knows._ Only, there’s nothing to know, and she can’t possibly know something that isn’t there. He plays with the idea of sending her to the psychiatric yard, but that would mean his loss of a perfectly fine anesthetist.

 

* * *

 

When Eren wakes up, everything seems to be blurred. The feeling of confusion only lasts a second, though, because, as soon as he sits on his damn fine mattress, he knows he has somehow ended tucked inside a weird man’s storage room. He stretches, yawns, and looks around. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now; apparently he’s allowed to stay, if only _through the winter,_ and he doesn’t feel like going anywhere at all.

His blanket is warm and the sheets are comfortable and fluffy and everything has an amazing smell, exactly as when he was a child. He sits still enjoying the nowadays rare feeling of being rested, sighing from contentment every so often.

Then he lets his attention drift to the boxes in the room; they are all placed neatly one on top of the other, all of them the same size and made from the same translucent plastic. He mildly remembers Levi telling him not to touch anything countless times last night before going up to his house, and he has his mind set on obeying his order. Or so he thinks.

He feels immensely curious when he spots something too colorful inside one of the boxes; he can’t say what it is, but he can say the colors mingle together to form a really intricate and sophisticated pattern. He chances a look to the door before getting up with his black comforter wrapped around himself and creeping closer to the box.

Eren opens it slowly, removing the cover and peering inside. A weird assortment of items are placed there; a black, smaller box with a locker, some neatly folded clothes, two small statuaries and, what he then finds out, a colorful vase. He peers at it curiously, touching the painted item with the pads of his fingers. He can feel the paint and the imperfections, and he’s mesmerized by the way the blues and purples and oranges and reds are swirling together to form beautiful small flowers and leaves. He wants to get it on his hands so he can look closely, but he knows he’s as graceful as a dying duck; he knows he will let it to the ground in two seconds and will probably break it beyond repair, and Levi would be mad – Eren would be mad too.

He closes the box and moves to the next one, standing to the side. He crouches down and opens it, looking at books and notebooks messily thrown inside. He gets one of the books on his hands, reading _The Pediatrician_ and furrowing his brows. Is Levi a doctor? Eren feels a shiver running down his spine, remembering exactly how shitty _all_ the doctors he met in his life were. He doesn’t want to think about it, though, so he puts the book back and opens a plain covered notebook. He goes through the pages, all of them filled with curvy handwriting on subjects Eren can’t understand.

He skips the pages until he sees a drawing occupying half a page at some point; it’s of a really ugly face with a shaky rainbow, with the words _stop studying_ written in a really messed way. Eren stares at it for a moment, and then closes the notebook and moves to another one. The one he picks is almost empty, save for some pages with some few lines.

_Gynecology. Pros: women are crazy and will visit all the fucking time; money. Cons: vaginas; women. Fucking women with disgusting sickness. No._

_Pediatrician. Pros: crazy moms paying shit tons of money because they think their snotty brats are dying. Cons: moms. Snotty brats. Brats. Families. Children. You will go to jail for murdering screaming little fuckers._

Eren laughs, wondering what is it about. Levi looks like the kind of people that have no patience; he’s serious and kind of scary, he’d be really bad with kids. He brings the notebook with him to his mattress and sits down.

_Psychiatry. Pros: can sleep while other people talk. Cons: you can’t tell the little shits you don’t give a flying fuck. You’d probably make your patients kill themselves and be poor. Poor as fuck. As poor as Hanji’s brain._

That last part was almost illegible; a lot of lines and rough scrawls over the words, but Eren can read it anyway.

 _Oncology. Pros: you can open people. Gruesome shit. Fun, fun, fun. Cons: they all will die if you fuck up. And you_ will _fuck up. Crying relatives. You will die poor._

_Dermatology. Pros: Pretty people. Crazy rich women paying shit tons to see you. The secret of beauty. Cons: Women. Ugly people thinking they will get prettier (they won’t). Can’t tell them they are ugly as fuck. Nasty dermatitis._

Eren moves to the last specialty; he notices it’s written with that same scrawl from the drawing in the other book. It reads,

 _Urology. Pros: Dicks. A lot of dicks. All kind of_ _penises_. _Thick dicks and long dicks and dick dicks and balls and asses and dicks. Dicks. DICKS. Cons: none._

He quickly goes through the next pages, but they are all blank. He gets up from his cocoon and puts the notebook back on the box, entertaining the last bit of information he got from Levi. He’s a doctor. Eren fiercely hates doctors, all of them – but, somehow, Levi is not so bad.

Standing there awkwardly, Eren feels a little dumbfounded; it feels as if his reality just sunk onto him. _‘God damn it, what the fuck am I doing here?’_ he asks himself, tapping his feet impatiently on the floor. He knows better than trusting people. He knows better than go with people he doesn’t know, knows better than to let himself be so fucking vulnerable as to soundly sleep on some weird man’s storage room. _‘But it was the best night of sleep I had in a while,’_ he concedes.

He feels the panic starting to take control over his body, but he stubbornly remains glued to the ground instead of giving in to his instincts and running away. He _wants_ to stay. He _wants_ to trust Levi, because this can be a chance – this can be his chance to finally, finally get the fuck away from this life. It’s too way up north, the winter is long and rigorous and Levi said he can stay. If he doesn’t need to pay for a room, he can save money, and then he can even manage enough to rent a small place somewhere. Just enough for him to get a real job, and restart his life.

Eren nods to himself. He will stay. He has nothing to lose anyway; If Levi is a part time serial killer, Eren feels like he can be killed anytime – he doesn’t care. It’s not like he will be missing much. Maybe it will be a good thing.

 _‘Shut up,’_ he screams inside his head.

He starts to pace up and down the small storage room, looking for something to pass his time with. He stares intently at the few other boxes piling up around the mattress, and then something catches his attention.

 

* * *

 

While Levi drives home, he wonders.

He wonders what the fuck happened to Eren through his short life, he wonders what the fuck he’s doing right now, all alone in his storage room. He wonders what kind of evil spirit possessed him so he would voluntarily take the brat home.

He wonders what Armin is up to, too, because he sent a message with _‘You wouldn’t believe it’_ , and promptly ignored Levi’s attempt to call him. There are only a small number of things Levi wouldn’t believe, so he’s actually quite curious about it.

Also, he wonders about Hanji. She’s not _really_ sleeping outside with the rats, of course; Levi also doesn’t want her to get a hotel room or anything like that. He knows for a fact Hanji is already having a lot of trouble because of this trip he planned and talked her into; he doesn’t want to trouble her any further.

But, Levi sighs, he can’t exactly tell her to take the damn guest room. His guest room doesn’t even have a mattress anymore, for fuck’s sake. Levi mildly remembers when his guest room was actually called Hanji’s room – he doesn’t even deny the fact that, truthfully, he only bothered buying a bed and stuffing it inside the room for Hanji’s sake. College was one hell of a time, and they spent most of the time at each other’s houses than on their own. Somehow, though, they always ended up in the same bed – something about her warmth lulling Levi to sleep better than any pills, and their arrangement worked just fine; they bickered at one another nonstop all day long, and then licked at each other’s wounds at the night. The most important factor, though, was that Hanji was actually quite good in the arts of feet-warming.

Levi shakes his head softly, stopping his car neatly at the closest space to the stairs in the parking lot. The problem isn’t the room, Levi knows; Hanji will one way or another end in the same bed as him, babying him like she used to before. The problem is with Hanji actually meeting Eren. He knows hell will break lose if she spots someone taking residence on his storage room, and he wonders what will she think.

As he slaps the door to his car closed, he realizes with the tiniest bit of fondness that, for some reason, Hanji’s opinions on things are really relevant, even though he more often than nothing promptly ignores everything about them.

He marches to his storage room, ready, yet again, to find it entirely empty. He tugs at the door tentatively, opening it slowly and soundlessly. He stops at the doorway, though, staring at Eren as he jumps up and down on his mattress, bouncing like a bunny to the sound of _we are the champions,_ that, as Levi notes with terror, _is_ coming from his old radio.

Not sure about what to do, Levi only stands there, watching as Eren shouts broken and wrong lyrics, jumping madly. The brat turns around, the widest smile on the earth stamped on his face and his eyes tightly screwed shut. He looks happy and satisfied and like the kid Levi knows he _is_ , and then he finds himself not brave enough to shout at him for jumping on a fine mattress, or for actually touching his things when Levi expressly told him not to.

He only stands there, features soft as he watches Eren having a weird kind of fun. The boy screams _‘no time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions’_ and bows deeply saying _thanks, thanks, yeah, thank you,_ and then finally opening his eyes.

Green eyes meet Levi’s straight on, bright and beautiful and full of things Levi can’t really point out, but no fear and no tension, just good things. Levi feels taken aback, and he’d gracefully stomp out and away from there if _there_ wasn’t actually part of his house.

“You touched my things,” Levi points out, lamely, as another song starts to play.

Eren rewards him with a smile that blossoms into a full laughter after only four seconds, and Levi can only stare as the boy laughs as if something’s actually really funny. He’s about to snap for him to shut up, to stop laughing _of_ him, when the beautiful, melodic and strong sound of his voice quiets down. Eren jumps from the mattress, bare feet meeting the hard ground Levi just _knows_ is too cold to the touch, and yet he still looks as pleased to himself as before.

He walks towards Levi, cheeks pink and breath irregular from his exercises. Eren lips are twisted into a smile again, just as he stops close to Levi. _Too_ close, inside Levi’s personal space. Levi has to suppress the urge to run or to punch him in the face; he was never really good with people inside his comfort zone, bringing himself out of his bubble.

Levi wants to push Eren back, really wants, but he doesn’t. He stares at him coldly, Eren’s breath uncomfortable and annoyingly fawning over his face. He wants to push him back, but, instead, he takes a step back, his skin itching where the warmth from his mouth touched him.

“I touched a lot of your things today,” Eren admits, a playful glint in his eyes as he stalks closer to Levi yet again.

“ _What_ are you doing, brat?” Levi asks through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes as the glint in Eren’s eyes shifts and turns into something teasing and confident.

“Inside this room, you are the only thing I haven't touched yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to stop somewhere i guess I'M SORRY. I'm also sorry for the many, many mistakes, because I honestly didn't even try to proofread this. (so pls tell me when you spot them!!)
> 
> thanks for reading!


	8. In which Levi is impotent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. I've got no way of starting it if not saying i'm really, deeply sorry. fkjgnfdg i know it's been a long time, and i was a fucker for stopping where i stopped last chapter, but i just- 
> 
> ugh, i'm really sorry. this chapter is slow and it was hard to write, but i like it enough cause hanji.
> 
> ugh

If Levi’s being honest with himself, Eren’s touch on his crotch is incredibly uncomfortable. It has particularly nothing to do with the way his fingers moves, skilled with no hesitance, feather-like touches purposefully undoing his fly while leaving a scorching trail in his skin. No, that’s not it.

He’s the worst person in the world to deal with shit like this, Levi knows. He has no social skills, and, honestly, he has had his fair share of pointless sex for what feels like worth his entire existence. He has had sex with a girl, once, when he was around 15, he vaguely remembers; it was the worst experience ever, and he will never get over the fact he actually stuck his dick inside someone else. After that, Levi decided he was gay as fuck, because no way in hell he was going to try that again.

Then he slept with men. Many. His first was just some time after the girl, and he clearly remembers an impressive amount of _nothing_. He was as high as the sun, and he only knows it happened because he was naked and sore and there was cum dried on his ass when he woke up. It was decidedly unsanitary (and he choose not to think about the fact he actually let some random dude fuck him with no condom and come inside him), but, at least, it was someone’s else dick inside his shit hole and not otherwise.

After giving up his old life, though, he rarely slept with anyone. He mostly used his hands whenever his hormones got to him. It was around the second year of med school when he met someone; he wasn’t alarmed by the fact the guy was exactly like Erwin (or maybe he did an amazing job of not minding it too much at the time), not only in appearance but also in his personality, and he sure as hell didn’t mind it when they had (possibly his first not-high-as-fuck) sex. But it just felt wrong afterwards; he felt dirty, he felt like he had betrayed Erwin and himself and Hanji and the trees and the houses and that stupid dog that slobbered all over him whenever he visited Erwin and every-fucking-thing.

It drove him almost crazy when he realized everyone he was even remotely interested in reminded him of Erwin in some way; that every time he touched himself, he came with his face on his mind and his name on his lips. He thought about Scott from the laws department, blonde as a sunflower and piercing cold blue eyes; he remembered Lawrence, the not-so-good-friend of a friend of Hanji, and although he wasn’t blonde, he was just exactly as Erwin when it came to the smart bullshit. He felt so filthy he gave up meeting up with people. Giving up real sex wasn’t actually as hard as he thought it would be. It was actually kind of easy – just getting away from anything that looked slightly too intimate only demanded of him to be himself; annoying, crude, rude, insensitive and with a liking to toilet humor and pointing out how ugly people looked like from up close.

Giving up his own touches, though, was hell. For one, he was actually, despite it all, a healthy youngster. His dick was hard as often as he needed to bath, and there was times he felt so horny it gave him physical pain. He managed, though, and, proudly, he could ignore any boner without thinking about touching himself in his fourth year. He doesn’t remember getting hard anymore somewhere around his residence time (but maybe he was just too good at ignoring anything that made him uncomfortable).

He isn’t now as proud of his antics as he was at the time, and he maybe worries a little sometimes about having gotten completely impotent after so many years, but, right now, as Eren’s eyes get half lidded and his mouth parts as he manages a button from his pants, Levi’s very grateful for being an awkward little shit.

He slaps Eren’s hands away, his blood running cold and far too hot at the same time for it to  be comfortable, and shoves him not so kindly to the side. Eren doesn’t fall, just loses his balance a little, enough for Levi to step to the side and away from him. “What the fuck are you _doing?_ ” he asks again, harsher this time, pausing after every word with a hiss that makes Eren think back about the cat. He glares at Eren, mentally tries to tell him to keep his fucking dirty hands to himself and never, _never_ try to touch him again. It doesn’t come across, though, because Eren stares up at him, defiantly. Levi hates the look in his eyes; amusement mixed with hurt and determination that makes Eren look like he’s going through a lot of pain (and Levi wonders if that kind of look is even possible). ‘ _Because I don’t want him anywhere near my dick? Are you fucking serious?’_

“I’m just paying you back,” Eren says, simply. And then, at Levi’s blank face, he clarifies, “For your kindness. It was part of the deal, right? That you’d let me pay you back. _Somehow_ ,” he mumbles something else Levi doesn’t really understand (and, honestly, doesn’t want to), and furrows his brows for a moment, before shrugging. “I’ve been told I’m really skilled with my mouth.”

“Do I look like I fucking care?” Levi snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “You obviously didn’t understand _anything_ about the fucking deal, because I made it clear as day that I didn’t want anything back. Especially _not_ your body.”

Eren doesn’t say anything for a while, and Levi stares at him, taking in the way his poorly clothed body shivers in the cold. He looks like the last leaf attached to a tree in the middle of autumn, trembling as the wind passes and just barely hanging there.  This kid’s more trouble than it’s worth, Levi’s sure; he’s about to turn around and leave and go to his fucking house when Eren speaks again.

“I have nothing to offer, if not my body,” he says, clearly. “And _I_ _made it clear as day_ that I don’t like to live leeching other people.”

“Like I said,” Levi hisses, his face contorting in the most unhappy expression he can manage. “I don’t give a damn flying fuck,” and, at Eren’s disbelieving face, he adds as an afterthought. “If you really want to pay me back, don’t fucking touch my fucking shit, _god damn it_.”

It’s funny, but Eren feels upset about this outcome. This is not how he had planned it inside his mind. No. Eren actually thought he would give Levi an amazing blowjob that’d make his hands fly to his hair and grip and would make Levi come and then everything would be fine. Perfect, even. He’d have a damn room, a fine mattress, and wouldn’t be feeling like the stupid and useless man he is. He should have known better than to think Levi would actually like that.

 _‘But_ ,’ the less decent part of Eren’s mind counters, amused and relieved in equal parts; ‘ _even so, he’s a really funny dude, isn’t he?’_

And he really is, Eren concedes, rubbing his hands against his arms. Levi’s incredibly bothered by the idea of Eren touching his things, he can tell, so he tries, “I didn’t actually touch _everything_.”

“That’s comforting,” Levi mumbles with a mocking tone, glaring as hard as before. He thinks about having to clean all these things again; ‘ _maybe I should just burn it all this time,’_ he muses, remembering how much shit Hanji left in this room when she moved to the south.

The idea seems decent enough, and he’s about to set a place where he can start a fire (‘ _maybe I should use this brat as the fuel and just get rid of all the nuisances at once’_ ) when he’s snapped back to reality by Eren’s insistent shivering and teeth clattering and _it isn’t even_ that _cold inside the room, damn it_.

Levi thinks he has nothing to do there anymore, so he grunts something that he can’t quite understand himself, and, without another word, he turns around, slams the door shut and leaves.

He takes step after calming step towards the staircase, and, when he deems safe enough, he runs up the nine flights until he’s panting and angry and frustrated. He clutches at his coat and tries to breathe decently, but the exertion’s great and it makes nothing to help. He’s annoyed.

He forces his legs to move the rest of the steps until he’s standing in the front of his door. He just feels safe when he’s inside, door rightfully closed and the welcoming smell of cleanliness greeting him.

Levi doesn’t really know what the fuck is wrong with himself. Or with Eren. The boy is annoying, sure thing, but seeing him on the ground squeezes his heart the same way as when he first visited Armin and he only had tap water to offer.

That’s bad. That’s really bad – his feelings were always meant to Hanji and Erwin only, and although he could squeeze little Armin in the horrendous gap Erwin left on him, Eren should have no place to fit whatsoever.

 _‘But here we are,’_ he sighs closing his eyes. A whore living in his storage room on all fours trying to suck him off. It’s so tragic it’s funny, and he cracks a grin that lasts only a second before it falls.

He kicks his shoes off, turns on the heater and makes a beeline towards him room, stripping messily and haphazardly until he’s standing by his bed with nothing but his naked glory. He feels stupid, stupid and challenged and _cold_. It’s as if every bad memory came rushing back to him, pinning him against the wall and laughing at him just to slap him in the face afterwards.

He cringes, but sits down on his comforter all the same. He stares down, at his flaccid cock sitting pathetically on top of his belly. He glares at it, prompting it to harden because _god damn it,_ _an attractive teenager just tried to suck you off, do something!_

But it’s not as if staring long enough will achieve something, so he reluctantly palms himself. It feels weird and just plain uncomfortable – he can’t really remember the last time he did it with sexual purpose (or any purpose other than cleaning, for the matter), but he clearly remember he didn’t washed his hands.

Still, he tries; he really does. He squeezes and drags his hand over the shaft, squeezing the head softly when it’s on his hands; he lets his other hand venture further, rolling his balls with his fingers and caressing them in a way he guesses he used to like. His finger rubs against his slit, soft yet insistent, trying to coach some reaction out from it.

But it’s of no use; he can’t remember the right pressure to squeeze or the right places to touch. He’s not even mildly aroused, and, as his dick slips from his hand to just lay against his belly again, ugly and gross, he groans and flops back, his head hitting the soft mattress as his close his eyes.

He feels suffocating and he wants to scream or to just _do something_. It’s maddening – and useless. He won’t get hard, and he knows it. Has known for a long time, just did an amazing job of not minding it. Everything would have been fine if Eren hadn’t show up, hadn’t put all his efforts into disturbing Levi’s peaceful life.

He only opens his eyes and gets up because his phone starts to buzz madly against the floor, still in the pocket of his coat. He considers not picking it up – _but you are a damn surgeon, you  goddamnit looser_ , and, since someone could be dying, he moves out of sheer will and drags himself back to his coat.

The name flashing on the screen is _Hanji,_ so he accepts the call and starts to drag himself back to bed.

_“You called me the other day, so I decided it was time to call you back!”_

He hears her deafening voice and it echoes deep into his mind. He sighs and falls on the bed on his side, holding the phone tiredly against his ear. “Yeah, don’t shout,” he murmurs.

 _“You still sound like shit,”_ she notes.

“I’m impotent,” he declares, his tone flat and hard.

There’s a long silence then – the only giveaway Hanji’s still there is the static her animalistic breathing sends through the phone.  _“What happened?”_ She finally asks, the teasing tone gone.

Levi sighs and turns around. He wants to save Eren’s tale for when she’s here in person, because he can't possibly tell it without talking about Armin. And he definitely doesn’t want to talk about him with her right now.

“You mean, what _didn’t_ happen?” He replies. “My dick didn’t,” another pregnant pause told Levi she was still waiting for a proper explanation, so he breathed harshly and went on. “I tried to masturbate but it just didn’t do _anything_. It feels like shit.”

 _“Oh,”_ she says. _“You are probably just not in the mood. I bet you just got out of the hospital, and you can’t really expect to be hard after opening someone and fumbling around with their insides.”_

“No,” Levi insists, harshly. “I’m in the mood. I’m really fucking in the mood. I’m clawing-at-the-sheets in the mood – as in, _never-been-hornier_ in the mood. But I’m impotent.”

She sighs. _“You lived celibate for years now,”_ she says. _“You never once tried to touch yourself through these years, you are just, I don’t know, out of it. I’m sure you are not impotent.”_

“How do you know I haven’t tried it?” He prompts. “I might have. I might have tried many, many times. Every day at night for a long time. Might have found guys in every corner, and maybe tried it out with the good looking patients,” _And might as well have been laughed at when your dick failed the job,_ his mind completes usefully. “I might be trying right now, as I talk to you.”

Hanji has the nerve to laugh. _“Yeah, right,” she snickers. “Okay, I don’t really know what to say right now, you grumpy old man. I’m arriving in three days anyway – just wait until I’m there and we can go see a doctor about it.”_

“You _are_ a doctor,” Levi accuses.

_“And so are you. I honestly know nothing about ED, but if you want to pierce a needle through you urethra, I can sure do something about that.”_

“Freak,” he says. “You are a freak and I’m impotent and I most likely don’t want to see a doctor about it.”

_“Maybe you can show Petra. You know, she just recently started residency, so she’s still fresh about the things she won’t use anymore. Such as, why the fuck your dick won’t stand as proudly as before.”_

“I’m not showing Petra my dick,” Levi says, the horror evident in his voice. “Girl’s gonna flip her shit, your damn four eyes.”

 _“If anything, she will offer to try to make it hard herself,”_ Hanji replies, subtle as always. She barks out an incredibly deafening laugh.

“Alright, shitty-tits. What the fuck you called for?”

 _“Phone sex, obviously,”_ she says, seriously, in a breathy voice that would have been sexy if it wasn’t just so _Hanji_. _“Just to hear from you, dummy. I like how shit you sound on the phone. Also, I’d like to remind you I’m arriving in 3, so you better get your old ass on the airport to wait for me.”_

“Good thing it was not for phone sex, because it would have been pretty boring with my dick sitting on my stomach looking as interested as garbage makes me,” he goes back to murmuring. “I will be there, you force of chaos. When haven’t I? Besides, I was the one whining for you to come, so, yeah.”

 _“Yeah,”_ Hanji repeats. _“Alright, pretty. I’ve gotta go now.”_

“Bye.”

_“Don’t worry your little weird head about your cock, alright? I’m sure we can fix that.”_

“Yeah.”

_“And even if we can’t, I will still love you no matter what. Our relationship is eternal.”_

“I cry every time I remember this small bit.”

_“I will still try to suck you off, even if you can’t put it up.”_

“I will slap your face with my dick, and it won’t be even one bit erotic.”

She laughs obnoxiously. “Like that one time–”

“Yeah,” Levi interrupts. “Bye.”

_“I love you.”_

“Yeah.”

_“And I miss you.”_

“Jesus Christ, Hanji, hang up on the fucking phone already,” Levi snaps. “Love you, miss you, don’t forget to whip your ass when you shit, brush your damn teeth because your breath stinks and please change your _god damn it_ panties every day because otherwise you reek of rotten fish. There, I said it all. I’m fucking naked, for God’s sake! Now hang the fuck up.”

Hanji laughs in her permanent good mood, and next thing Levi hears is the dial tone signaling she finally hanged out. He stares at his phone absentminded for a moment before carelessly, purposefully throwing it in the general direction of his coat.

He manages to ignore it for two seconds before he groans and gets up, rushing to nurse his phone and put it safely on his nightstand. Somehow, talking to Hanji is calming, and he believes her when she says they will fix whatever the fuck is wrong – she always keeps her promises, no matter illegal ways she makes use of to do that.

Still, it bothers him. Bothers him to no end, and although he’s still naked and cold and pathetic and his hands are still in need of some good seven minutes wash with scalding hot water, he goes back to his door, collecting his clothing in the way and putting them back on, making an excellent job of fixing his mess.

He gets to the door and steps back on his shoes, opens it and closes soundlessly after him. The cold winter air is as annoying as always, and he really thinks he should move to Hanji’s house sometime soon. He rushes through the hallway until he reaches the staircase and drags himself down, tightening his coat around his frame.

He crosses the parking lot and reaches his storage room. He stops by the closed door, not sure about what he intended to do when he got here in the first place. He wants to yell at Eren – yes, but he also wants to fucking stuff him inside the car and take him out and buy him a coat or something; he wants to feed him although he’s still vehemently telling himself he wants not, and he most surely wants to rush to Armin’s house and ask him to fix whatever the fuck he needs to fix for this boy to go away and never come back – but of course he doesn’t, because he doesn’t Armin fixing anything other than him and he’s one selfish little fucker and he will delay this meeting the longer he can.

He opens the door and steps inside, but stops mid-step when his brain registers Eren going through one of his transparent plastic boxes. Eren stares at him, and Levi has never seen a more accurate picture of a deer caught in the headlights. It would be funny if it wasn’t so infuriating, and Levi storms up to where he is and rudely pulls at his books and textbooks.

Eren lets him, opens his mouth twice without producing any sound and then groans. “I’m sorry,” he says, as Levi puts it all back in the box. “I’m not– I’m not trying to steal anything! I’m just curious by nature so I wanted to–”

“I don’t care,” Levi says, trying his best to remain calm. “I don’t fucking care, you little shit. I’ve told you not to touch my shit, so you _don’t.”_

“I’m not trying to– I’m not…” He trails off, and then, “Are you a doctor?” Eren asks, stepping back from the pile of boxes and closer to the mattress.

“No, I’m the prostitutes’ most renowned fairy godmother,” Levi bites back. Then Armin’s voice inside his head says something about Eren’s dad being a doctor of some kind. Levi closes the door and then sits down on top of one large box, narrowing his eyes at Eren. “Yes, yes I’m a doctor. Why?”

“No reason,” Eren says. “Just didn’t look like one.”

Levi stays silent for a moment. “Why the fuck are you selling your body, kid?” Levi won’t admit it at all, but he knows he’s also one curious bastard, and he really wants to know Eren’s version of facts. “Don’t you have a family? Or friends? Or anything like that?”

Eren stares at him, silently. He wants to tell him about his life, because the bigger part of his brain tells him he can trust Levi – Levi took him in (kinda), and still hadn’t forced Eren to have sex with him; but the other, more rational part of his mind, always yells at him to trust no one. He bit down the insides of his cheeks before answering, “I’ve got no one.”

“Bullshit. Everyone has someone. I’m pretty sure you weren’t conceived from a cabbage, kid. You’ve got to have a mother and a father and a family of some kind.”

“I have any,” Eren reinforced, looking at the spot in the wall on top of Levi’s head.

Levi looks aggravated, but lets the topic die and the silence stretch. Eren picks at the rem of his stupid cardigan, and Levi wonder how the fuck he even managed to make money through his profession wearing so much clothing and looking like a dirty high schooler.

“I’m not stealing anything,” Eren says, suddenly. “I’m not stealing anything from these boxes, I was just curious. You can look into my bag if you want, there’s nothing there, I swear.”

Levi sighs, running a tired hand through his hair. “Eren, I never said you were. I just don’t like people touching what’s mine, so you better fucking respect that,” he says, using the tone he reserves for especially dumb patients. “If you are curious about something, then just ask. I will answer if it’s relevant.”

Eren nods, looking pretty much ashamed. “Your music taste is really weird,” he starts, unsure. It seems like the first opportunity to have a talk with Levi, and he doesn’t want to shoo him away now. Especially because he’s bored out of his mind; without having to plan his next day, Eren’s left with as much as nothing to do, and caged in this little room he doesn’t really get to talk with anyone (not even with the drug dealers yelling at him).

“They are not mine,” Levi replies curtly.

Eren nods again. “That from the other day was your boyfriend?”

Levi presses his lips in a thin line. “Not a relevant question.”

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“The kind that likes to open people and cut off a thing or two,” Levi replies. “Or ten.“

Eren makes an awkward face. “How old are you?”

“Not a relevant question,” he repeats, but at Eren’s crestfallen face he barks out, “thirty-four”

“What.”

“What what, kid?” Levi narrows His eyes.

“You don’t look like thirty-four. You look like twenty-two at best.”

Levi rolls his eyes at him. “I’ve got good genes running down my family, it seems.”

“What’s your family like?” Eren asks, and for the first time he looks really eager to know the answer, but Levi just shakes his head. “Ah, come on!”

“Not. A. Relevant. Question,” he says trough gritted teeth, and then hastily gets up. “I’m going back inside,” he declares, turning around on his heels and going to the door with long strides.

“No, wait!” Eren calls, hurrying after him as the door opens. “Wait, I’ve got one last question!”

Levi really wants to go back to his house now – and leave Eren to freeze out there waiting for him to turn around, but he doesn’t. He stops on his tracks, his boots deep down the snow they will have to clean off tomorrow, and turns to stare at Eren.

“I’ve got one last question,” he says again, and his cheeks flush deeply – from cold or embarrassment, Levi doesn’t know. “Can I use your bathroom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS I SAID. really slow. but i had to do something so i could get back the hang of things in this fic kjgnjfdkg
> 
> i will probably take a while to update again, cause i'm moving in a few days and life has been real busy dfkjgnfdkjg
> 
> (also i know 98% of you expected smut in this chap. i'm so not very sorry about not writing it; it was not really the moment to, and i had this feeling it would fuck up the whole thing if i had written it jdfngfdjk)
> 
> i'd love to hear from you, so if you have something you wanna say, feel free to drop me a message!
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> (as always, this is not really proofread so please alert me if you find any typos or weird things!)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel so sorry for throwing Eren in the streets, but, hopefully, he will be out of there soon.
> 
> Also, sorry for any glaring mistakes.
> 
> I'm sorry.


End file.
